Phobias
by Lady Luce
Summary: A collection of one shots about the fears which face Dante, Vergil, Lady etc. A mixture of angst, fluff and attempted humor. (Some of these are now multi-chaptered fics in their own right). Occasional DxL and SpardaxEva.
1. Nosocomephobia

**Phobia**

Lady Luce

_Disclaimer: Devil May Cry belongs to Capcom. I'm not making any money from this; it is written with all due respect to the creator._

_This set of fics are all based on a phobia of some form. A bit like a prompt list only I have more choice in what subject I pick :) It was just a random idea I had and have enjoyed doing. More fics will follow as inspiration strikes, some may be drabbles, others will possibly be longer than this. So here's the first one!_

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Nosocomephobia: Fear of Hospitals

* * *

The mechanical beep of the heart rate monitor was the only thing which told him his mother was still alive. That and the steady rise and fall of her chest timed perfectly with the whirring of the ventilator next to her bedside. The machines were the only things keeping her alive; Dante knew this, but he refused to believe it.

He gritted his teeth, clenching a white-knuckled fist in the duvet which covered Eva's pale form. Dante hated it here, it stank of disinfectant, and it was almost _too_ clean. The constant metallic whirrs and clicks of the machines were driving him insane, but he didn't want it to stop. The mere thought sent a shiver up his spine; each time the monitor seemed to skip for just a second too long his heart would jump into his throat.

The room was dark; the only lights in the ward directly above Eva's prone form turning her skin an even deathlier pale and making her hair shine a brilliant, shimmering, gold. Dante sat hunched over the edge of her bed unruly white hair falling into his eyes as he stared at the sheets. He couldn't look at her; it wasn't her.

Eva's face was ashen, dark rings under her eyes, her once silky hair which shone like spun gold was stained and matted with a deep, sanguine, red. A tangle of tubes, pipes, and wires concealed most of her face from his view. It didn't look comfortable at all – he wanted to rip them away so he could see her properly, he wanted to be closer to her than he already was, but most importantly he wanted her to live and that was what stopped him from doing something rash.

The constant _blip_ of the heart rate monitor faltered for a second and sheer panic tore through him. Dante's hand grasped his mother's tightly – careful of the shunt in the back of her hand – eyes wide and starring as his heart seized in his chest. Time stood still for what seemed like hours as his gaze locked on his mother's face occasionally flicking to the monitor next to him. Then the green line on the screen arched upwards to a peak and the steady rhythm continued once more. Dante let out a shaky breath and bit his lip squeezing his eyes tight shut. His whole body trembled from the pure fear that he had lost his mother, could still loose her, and he resisted the urge to break down completely.

Opening his eyes again he took a few steady breaths to calm himself and blinked rapidly to clear the tears from the edges of his vision. He couldn't cry now, not now, he was going to be strong for his mother. Dante's jaw clenched; she needed him now. Forcing himself to look at her once again he tried to choke down the knot forming at the back of his throat. She looked beautifully serene and somewhat angelic – a halo of pale light shining in her hair. He squeezed her hand tighter, careful not to hurt her – if she could feel pain now that was – and willed her to live.

"Please mom," his words were fractured and hung in the all too silent air for agonising seconds. Somehow he couldn't help but blame himself for what had happened. Part of him knew that he couldn't have prevented it, but he could have tried! He had been hiding away whilst his mother had been tormented… he had heard her screaming and knew that those sounds would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Wake up," Dante's voice trembled threatening tears and he blinked them back furiously. "I should have tried… I should have saved you," he gripped her hand in both of his now, eyes shining in the pale light, shudders racing up and down his spine. "Mom, please," he begged, voice strained as a harsh sob escaped his lips. "Just wake up."

Dante's head fell to rest on their entwined hands, his shoulders shaking with suppressed tears. His whole world had caved in that night and somehow he knew that nothing would ever be alright again. The horrible aching wounds in his heart refused to heal and now all the pain was rushing to the surface in a wave of broken sobs.

He froze suddenly breath catching as his eyes widened in pure terror, head snapping up to gaze at the monitor. There was the hollow droning of a single off-key note as his mother's heart stopped beating and in that second the world seemed to fall into a terrible clarity. His mother was dead and no matter what she wasn't coming back. For a moment he couldn't think or move, couldn't see around the blinding pain in his chest. An anguished cry tore its way from his throat and all attempts at self control fled. He threw himself across Eva's form and clung on tight hoping to bring her back by pure strength of will if nothing else.

The doors crashed open, the room suddenly bursting into chaos. He didn't even have the strength to fight back as he was dragged out into the corridor.

* * *

Dante sat hunched over in the darkened corridor snow white hair hanging in his eyes. The soft green glow from the emergency exit signs at each end of the corridor gave off the only light. That and a dim light in the middle of the corridor which flickered on every time someone walked by. For all he knew they had forgotten him completely. He had taken himself off, after being left in the relatives' room, in a vain attempt to find his mother again. Now he was hopelessly lost and couldn't make his legs work again even if he had wanted them to. Something inside him felt incredibly cold all of a sudden, his mind was shutting down. Everything he loved had been taken away from him. 

Squeezing his eyes tight shut Dante rested his head in his upturned hands covering his burning eyes. He was beyond tears now, filled with a numb pain; the feeling was far worse than any wound that could have been inflicted. The closest he could come to describing it was having his heart squeezed in a vice of frozen fingers until it burned with pure cold. And yet that still didn't seem to come anywhere close to what he was feeling. His body was shaking, his back heaving with the occasional dry choked-back sob. Half of him wished that he had died instead, it hurt so much – he just wanted the world to end right here; just to make the pain go away. It was the quitters' way out and if anything Dante was not a quitter so he bit his lip to keep it from trembling and swiped futilely at his reddened eyes with the back of his hand.

The few brief moments of coherence, before the world dulled around him once again, hurt the most. He couldn't keep a firm grip on the reality for longer than a minute. As nice as it was to be completely detached from the situation he didn't like the empty, hollow, feeling which had settled across his chest, choking him.

Pressing his head back against the cold wall behind him his exhausted body fell gratefully into a light sleep. He needed all the strength he could get right now and finally tiredness had gotten the better of him.

Dreams quickly turned into nightmares as he lay awkwardly across the chairs in the corridor. The whole thing was a blur of twisted, gawking phantoms, sanguine red and fear until suddenly it all cleared away in a haze of brilliant light. The monsters and horrors which had plagued him melted away into shadow as he felt a hand brush across his forehead. A gentle, soft touch; a cool hand lovingly brushing the hair from his eyes a refreshing breeze playing across fevered skin.

"Mother?" he smiled. Dante didn't have to ask; he knew it was her.

"Dante… you'll be okay. You can do it," her voice was ethereal; echoing through out his mind. He didn't understand, but it didn't matter – she was there with him.

Dante was jarred from his dream by someone shaking gently awake. His mind couldn't comprehend what was happening for minutes and then he locked onto a face in front of him and he was brought back to the real world with a painful jolt. He had to swipe away more tears as he sat up in his chair, trying to look strong and brave in front of this stranger.

She was a doctor, she must have been, her white coat told him that. Her eyes were kind and she gave him a half-hearted smile.

"Are you Dante?"

He nodded; throat dry. He knew why she was here.

She gave him another one of those awkward, sad smiles. The doctor took his hand and the immediate reaction to pull it away was quelled by the icy feeling returning to his stomach. She caught his eyes and he saw the sadness there too. Well at least she wasn't feigning it for his benefit.

"Do you have any family…? Anyone I can call for you?"

Once again he shook his head feeling dread rushing over him.

She pursed her lips and nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but," she sighed, "your mother passed away a few hours ago. We tried to resuscitate her, but we couldn't bring her back…"

Dante nodded to show that he understood and finally found his voice. It was filled with the same icy numbness as his heart. "I already knew."

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_A/N: Personally I don't like the first half of this fic as much as I do the second and I kept feeling like there was something wrong with the whole thing. Oh and yes, I know any mention of Vergil is missing. This started out only going to be a drabble and then I thought it would be best just to write him out of the equation completely. And yes that line Eva supposedly said is from DMC1. I thought it fitted and to be honest I didn't know what else to write._

_Opinions, constructive criticism, helpful pointers... all would be very much appreciated :)_

_-Luce_


	2. Catoptrophobia

**-Phobias-**

-Lady Luce-

_A/N: Let me just start out by saying anyone who's confused I changed my pen-name. This is a drabble, which means it's under 500 words. _

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Catoptrophobia: Fear of Mirrors

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Pushing open the door of _Devil May Cry_ Dante rubbed his soaked hair back from his face and shrugged off his weapons and coat. It has started pouring as soon as he had gone out on a call and to make matters worse the 'situation' had been far more dire than previously described. There had been higher demons – intelligent ones – ones which liked to mess with his head instead of simply fighting. And one of them had mentioned Vergil. He had been caught completely off guard by that and only pure instinct had saved him from loosing a limb – or worse.

Running a hand through his still sopping mop of hair he sighed, feeling the warning signs of a head ache making themselves known. He had done his very best to remove the memories of his twin from his mind and shut them all away somewhere safe. It had been a year now since Temin-Ni-Gru and though Dante had managed to forget Vergil once before when he had been left for dead this time it had been so much harder. Before there had been hope that his brother would return one day out of the blue. Now he knew that Vergil was never coming back the fact that his twin would rather jump into hell than return to the human world with him only served to add salt to the wound.

Deciding he was in need of a wash he headed for the bathroom. It was just one of those days… he'd get over it; a couple of beers later and he could be in a contented stupor for the rest of the night. Which didn't sound like a bad way to spend an evening, it was better than moping anyway. Not that Lady would approve when she returned, but she didn't tend to approve of anything he did.

He glanced to the mirror to asses the damage to his new vest – that was the third one this week – when he stopped dead in his tracks. Vergil was staring back at him through the mirror.

Dante's electric blue eyes widened in shock before he realised that his mind was playing tricks on him. A stab of resentment went through him as he saw that Vergil was copying his exact movements… and he was wearing red. Growling in anger he resisted the urge to smash glass into a thousand pieces and turned away flattening his hair back over his face.

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_A/N: I'm not entirely happy with this one, but I have read it over loads of times and I couldn't think of anything to change... I might go back and do another one later and add on a version 2 here. I'll make sure to tell you if I do :)_

_-Luce_


	3. Tocophobia

**-Phobias-**

-Lady Luce-

_A/N: Originally I discarded this phobia from my list as something I couldn't use. Then the other night I watched The Fly. Somehow the movie got me thinking about Dante and Lady XD not sure why… So another Dante/Lady up for the count… gah I thought I didn't like this pairing. Correcton; I do not like this pairing... Also both of them are a little OOC in this. It took me a lot to finally post this fic because of that._

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Tocophobia: Fear of Pregnancy

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Steam clouded the air making her alcohol induced stupor even more confused. The boiling water had risen to the top of the bath now and was running over onto her back; scorching her skin as she leaned against the tub trying to gather the strength to move. The bottle of gin clutched in her hand was half empty; another emptied bottle was upturned in the middle of the bathroom floor, and an unopened one stood patiently next to her. 

Lady blinked slowly rubbing a hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat and focus her sluggish mind. She had to move, Dante would be back soon from whatever mission he was on and god knew she didn't want him to find her in this state. Apart from anything though she didn't want him to know the truth of her current _condition_; she had run it through her mind a thousand times and decided that this option was best. He never had to know about the _thing_ growing inside her. Maybe she would have thought differently about the situation if he wasn't a demon, but he was and that was all there was to it – half demon or no, they were all the same to her. She had sworn to rid the world of demons and she could not allow herself to keep this monster inside of her. Letting it live would go against every moral fiber of her being and the mere thought of it made her sick to the stomach.

This whole thing had been a drunken mistake to begin with and she was certain he wouldn't have cared one bit about it anyway. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself. After all if she truly was certain then there would be no harm in telling him the truth. Lady knew that what she was truly afraid of was him returning right now and stopping her from killing it. She was afraid he'd ask her to keep it, terrified that she'd let herself be talked into it until it was too late. No, this was best for all of them. Dante never had to know and there would be no pain for either of them. Only she knew deep down somewhere she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye again after this.

Taking another swig of gin she let out a deep sigh before rising shakily to her feet, using the side of the bath for support. Gripping the edge of the tub tightly she tested the water with her hand. Lady quelled her instinctive reaction to pull away as the water burnt her skin sending a shock through her dulled senses. When she was finally accustomed to the heat she slipped a foot into the water and waited a second to add another. She hadn't bothered with getting undressed. After the first bottle of gin it hadn't seemed like such a big deal and now she was no where near inclined to think otherwise. She wanted to get this over with as fast as possible so that everything could continue as normal. Not that her life had ever been particularly normal one way and another.

Biting her lip she carefully sank into the water finding some small satisfaction in the burning heat. It was probably right that it hurt, she felt that she deserved it in some way even though she knew she could never have let the creature live. Lady was suddenly struck with a horrifying thought as she reached for her bottle, nearly toppling the unopened one with her awkward movements. What if this didn't kill it? Sure this was supposed to work on human babies, but not demons. It didn't matter that the demon blood in the creature was so watered down she had seen what the slightest bit of demonic power could do. Gulping down the last of the gin she threw the bottle down in a sudden burst of anger. This was all _his_ fault! She had firmly told him no in Temin-Ni-Gru and he still hadn't taken the hint. Most of the time Dante was merely an insufferable flirt, but it hadn't taken much for the situation to get out of hand. What little coherence she had left told her she was just as much to blame for what had happened as he was, but she was beyond rationality now and the thought was easily shoved aside.

Water was pouring over the edges of the bath, but she didn't care. She should turn the tap off really, but it was too much effort; and besides she couldn't even remember _why_ the tap needed turning off so the fact that she thought it should be was irrelevant. Resting her head in her hands she sank lower into the water and waited. _It_ would be dead soon, and then she could carry on with her life.

* * *

Dante kicked the door to his shop open roughly, grimacing as it made a large dent in the adjoining wall. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him, but Lady had been all too clear that they didn't have the money right now and his habit of massacring furniture was making the situation even worse. Only the other day he had smashed a window when a game of pool had become a little too heated. He probably still wouldn't have listened to her whining had she not suggested – more like threatened – that the pizza be rationed until they had enough money to pay for everything. So now he really was trying his best not to break anything. Unfortunately it was all too easy to get carried away sometimes, especially when he'd been called out for a prank rather than an actual job. 

"Hey Lady, I'm back some bloody kids got a hold of my number and… what the…?"

He stopped when a drop of water landed squarely in the middle of his forehead, followed by another one. That wasn't right; it hadn't been raining outside so why it would be raining indoors was a mystery. In fact, since when did it rain indoors…? Glancing up at the ceiling he saw a patch of water spreading steadily across the plaster. It reminded him eerily of a blood-stain and sent a stab of panic through him though he dismissed it immediately. Or at least, he tried to. Resting Rebellion on his desk with a care he didn't often possess he turned to the stairs as he heard the ceiling creak in protest and the muted roar of running water reached his ears.

_Talk about not wrecking the place, what in hell was she doing up there…?_ There was something niggling at the back of his mind telling him that the situation was desperately wrong. He picked up the pace; taking the steps two at a time and finally arriving at the bathroom door a fraction of a second later. There was a pause where he listened, the rush of cascading water filling his ears and he bit his lip knocking on the door. He could rip the thing off its hinges with a firm kick, but he didn't really want to walk in on her if there was nothing wrong. That would earn him yet another bullet to the brain which he most certainly didn't need.

"Lady, are you in there? Is everything alright?"

No response; only the unceasing sound of the water as it drained from the taps.

Dante lost what little composure he had left, his mind getting the better of him instantly. His life was never normal. It was just as likely Lady had been attacked by demons than she had merely fallen asleep in the bath. He hammered on the door, knowing that she'd laugh at him later for over-reacting, but not caring right now. That feeling of unease was crawling up his spine; he _knew_ that something about this situation was not right.

"Lady open the door now or I'm breaking it down! And you'd better be decent!" He tried for a threatening tone and failed miserably, his voice completely lacking any conviction. The realization that he was worried about her might have made him laugh had the situation seemed less dire. Lady could take care of herself, she never asked for his help – well at least not since Temin-Ni-Gru – and she had made it clear countless times that she would never need it. So why should he be feeling like this when he knew she could handle stuff which would send grown men running for their lives?

Dropping down he rested against the door to peer through the keyhole. At other times such a thing might have seemed perverted; right now he didn't even bother to think about it. He couldn't get a very good view of the room, but what he saw was enough to make him start. Lady's hand was dangling limply from the bath – her back to him – a bottle of some drink or another was lying beneath her out-stretched fingers and another two were smashed on the bathroom floor. In an instant he was standing again and it only took one harsh kick to send the door down.

* * *

Her head ache made itself known as soon as consciousness returned; an incessant throbbing ache in her frontal lobe which could not be quelled. She moaned softly trying to force her eyes open, but the bright lights in the room stung her eyes and she snapped them shut again. 

Lady's next thoughts came a while later with the realization she must have passed out again. This time her head ache seemed to have receded a little and she chanced opening her eyes to take a look around. Her bi-coloured eyes widened when she found that she was no longer at Devil May Cry. In fact she couldn't place where she was at all. Her mind was still muggy and it took her a long time of simply lying there – for she had at least determined she was in a bed – before comprehension hit her. The smells, the sounds… she was in a hospital…? Why? What had happened? Her mind was still too confused by the alcohol to think straight and it was infuriating; only serving to increase her head ache.

Then realization hit her, making her feel sick; Dante.

He must have found her… then where was he now? Sitting up in bed she growled in frustration, feeling the wires hooking her up to the various beeping and whirring machines in the room. She ripped them away and then decided that maybe she should have reconsidered doing so as an alarm went off announcing that she was dead. This was typical, just typical, if she hadn't been feeling so terrible she would have laughed.

* * *

Dante sat in the relatives' room a paper cup of coffee in his hands as he stared at the ground. He was completely on edge here and he hated it, fighting down the memories of the last time he had been in a hospital he swallowed and raised his head to glance at the wall clock. It was seven in the morning; he'd found Lady half-drowned in the bath at around ten last night and everything after that had been a blur. He could barely remember racing – practically falling – back downstairs to call an ambulance (something he had never had to do before in all his years of demon-hunting). He had not wanted to move her from where he had first left her on the bathroom floor in case he only injured her further and waiting for the sound of sirens had been pure agony. Dante had hurriedly tried to explain as much as he could when the ambulance arrived, though to be honest he had been completely confused about the situation. 

Now he understood though, he understood perfectly and he gritted his teeth at the memories of all those pitiful looks which had been thrown his way as he had explained what had happened and sat in the ambulance. At the time he had been too afraid for Lady's safety to notice them, but now they made him want to break something. He shook his head inwardly chastising himself. He was such a fool to not have noticed what was happening. Lady had been acting strangely the whole week prior, seeming lost in her thoughts and hogging the bathroom every morning. He had thought she was merely doing women things, like washing her hair and preening – not that Lady had ever been a one for it, but you never could tell with her – but now he knew the truth.

The door opened suddenly; making him jump and spill his coffee all over his hands. It stung, but he barely noticed.

"Erm… Dante was it…?" A nurse questioned eyeing him suspiciously. He must have looked like a wreck. He hadn't slept all night and he was still in his demon-hunting attire which had the occasional blood stain and tear in it. He desperately needed a new shirt, but their budget for the month had been tight and it had been a new shirt or pizza. The choice had been an obvious one, though now he was wishing he'd gone for the new shirt. He probably fit the role of psychotic boyfriend perfectly. Everyone here had been telling him that Lady needed to see a psychiatrist, asking personal questions and showing that they quite blatantly thought this was his fault in some way or another. His short temper with said people had not helped his case much.

Dante could only nod in answer to her question, his throat suddenly dry.

"Your girlfriend-" the nurse started, but he cut across her.

"She's not my girlfriend," he ground out.

She nodded flashing him another of those understanding, pitying, looks everyone in this place seemed to give him. He could tell that they blamed him – and to an extent he did too, but if Lady had just told him instead of being so stupid…

"Oh, alright, well your _friend_ is awake," she replied emphasizing the word.

He was silent for a moment then set his coffee down on a table and stood trying to calm his heart as it began to hammer in his chest. He couldn't deny that he wanted, no _needed_ to talk to Lady. He needed to understand why she had done it…

"Thanks, well I'd better-"

She caught his arm before he could leave the room and looked him in the eye. She generally did look sad this time, but he still wasn't convinced. "I'm sorry, we did the best we could, but the baby died early this morning." The paradox of what she had just said failed to register in his mind as he was reminded once again of the truth of what had happened.

Dante faltered then feeling as though someone had just punched him in the stomach; hard. His face paled and he closed his eyes for a second to regain composure, gritting his teeth.

He swallowed hard and threw the woman a glare, not caring that she had nothing to do with the situation. "How do you know it was mine?" His voice was cold, filled with more venom than he had intended and the nurse appeared to be a little taken aback.

"I-I'm sorry, I just assumed…"

Dante shook his head slowly, not quite believing that he was having this conversation. "I don't care, just take me to her."

He only half-listened as the woman explained that Lady's condition was stable, that if everything went well she would be able to leave tomorrow… though it was advised she have some form of counseling. The truth of the situation was only just sinking in and it was far too much for him to take without her talking. When they reached Lady's room she held the door open for him and he thanked her - though he would have much preferred if she had left him to himself – and entered the room.

Lady was lying in bed, her head turned towards the window, staring blankly at the rain. His foot-steps seemed awfully loud in the silent room as he made his way to the chair next to her bedside and sat down.

Silence hung in the air for minutes which seemed to stretch on for eternity then Lady turned her head to stare at the ceiling. She couldn't look him in the eye, but she didn't think she could stand the tension much longer either.

"Dante?" She croaked, knowing that she sounded pathetic and hating herself for it.

"So you're alive," he observed coldly, eyes suddenly turning icy.

She shivered at the tone of his voice, swallowing. "I guess I am," Lady replied, her words oddly hollow.

"It's dead."

Lady hated the eerie calm to his voice; it made her feel sick. She wanted him to yell at her, but he was only starring at her, his electric blue eyes boring a hole in her head. "I know."

"But that's what you wanted isn't it?" His tone was brutally cold now, still devoid of anger – still frighteningly calm. In all honesty he reminded her of his twin more than himself right now – though she had only met Vergil very briefly – but she hesitated to point that out. Apart from it's being perfectly irrelevant it would seem like a nasty trick to throw him off guard. She saw what any mention of his brother did to Dante and he was under enough pressure now as it was; he was trying his best to hide it, but she could see the cracks already appearing. In a moment something would break and that set her on edge. She realized with a start that she was, for once, afraid of him. Not in a big way, but this cool and collected Dante was one she had never come across and it was even worse when she could tell there was a bitter anger eating away at him just beneath the icy surface of his eyes.

Lady couldn't lie to him; they both knew the truth of the matter even though it was hard to say. "Yeah, it was." She managed to keep her voice nonchalant, though she was far from it. She didn't know how to begin to make him understand; and she had never guessed that he would react like this.

Dante's jaw clenched anger flooding through him. "You're being oddly calm about this."

"So are you," she shot back fire sparking in her voice. Lady knew she should have discussed this with him first; she should have had it done properly. After all it was her life, Dante had never appeared to be one for children, but now she was worried she had been grievously mistaken.

He was silent then and she finally got up the courage to look at him. Pulling herself upright in the bed she caught his eyes with her own mismatched ones. "Look, I know it was the wrong way to go about things, but at the end of the day it was my decision… you wouldn't understand."

He bristled at her comment eyes sparking. "Why do you always tell me that? Why don't you try and explain it to me for once?" His gaze locked with hers challenging her to justify what she had done and part of her knew that she couldn't.

She took a breath, thinking. "I didn't want it. It's that simple; I didn't want it and I was afraid you'd talk me into keeping it," Lady swallowed and looked at him, studying his face intently. Technically she was telling the truth, though she'd left out the reason why she hadn't wanted the child. There were a number of reasons, but the main one – the one which had made her feel ill merely thinking about it – was that she had had a demon growing inside of her. "I thought I could handle it by myself," she shook her head a laugh escaping her lips; it wasn't a happy sound. "Besides, I never thought you'd react this way. You don't seem like the type to want to settle down – and I'm not ready for that either."

Dante nodded slowly resting his head in his hands. He understood what she was saying; the idea of being a father frightened him, but at the same time it filled him with sadness. He would never be ready to settle down. His life just wasn't like that and he wouldn't have wanted to endanger a child with such a life-style, but he couldn't abandon demon-slaying either. His life's priorities were oddly out of place, but it came with the job. And yet some part of him couldn't quite forgive her for not discussing it with him first.

"And you wouldn't exactly want a kid growing up with us as role-models. It would probably end up more screwed up than we are and that's saying something." Lady was trying to lighten the mood, but from the expression on his face she was failing miserably. He was lost somewhere in his own thoughts, his glacial eyes frosting over as he peered over his hands at the rain outside. Was it really hurting him that much? Was there some part of the happy-go-lucky half-demon which longed for some form of security?

She leaned over to grasp one of his hands in hers, but he pulled his away sharply as though he had been burnt. "Dante…"

He shook his head muttering softly to himself. "You always say that to me… why? Do you think I'm stupid? Every time I ask you a serious question you tell me I wouldn't understand you. Do you think I'm stupid… or-" memories of their conversation back in the tower of fear pierced his mind and he threw her a sharp side-long glance. "Or is it because I'm a demon?" He pinned her with brilliant blue eyes. The mask had slipped now; he was angry, she couldn't tell whether his ire was directed at himself or her, but she could see it clearly. "Does that still bother you? Would it have made any difference to you if I wasn't one? Would today have been different-"

Lady found her tongue glued to the top of her mouth as she stared at him with horror blatantly clear in her eyes. She knew his anger tended to be self-destructive; that no matter how much it seemed to be directed at her he was killing himself inside. And yet she could barely string a few coherent words together. "Dante… I-"

He flew at her then; grabbing her by the arms in a vice like grip – it wasn't enough to hurt her; he wouldn't hurt her. His face was inches away from hers now and she found herself unable to look away from his piercing blue eyes. "Just tell me!"

Panic was racing, thrumming, through her blood scattering her thoughts. The heart rate monitor had picked up the pace, letting out a high-pitched beeping which was impossibly loud in the sudden quiet.

"Tell me," he hissed through gritted teeth, "would it still be alive if I weren't a demon?"

The tears came then, a natural reaction to the complete shock and fear rushing through her. A harsh sob escaped Lady's lips and she nodded feebly. Truth be told, if it hadn't been a demon she would have looked on the whole thing in a different light. She had felt a bitter resentment as soon as she had found out that she was pregnant, knowing that if it hadn't been Dante's she would have felt slightly giddy about the whole thing. Terrified, but with an odd sense of happiness none the less. Instead she had had to fight down the wave of nausea which washed over her.

The door burst open then; someone must have heard the raised voices. Dante had already let go of her though, falling back in the chair a dazed expression on his face. He was staring at her, lips parted slightly as though he wanted to speak his face the perfect picture of stunned pain. In fact if Lady didn't know better herself she would have said that his face matched her idea of someone who had just been stabbed through the heart.

The situation was judged immediately and the doctor who had entered the room, along with a nurse, gave Dante a pointed look. "I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave."

The Demon-hunter nodded and rose to his feet eyes still fixed on Lady. "I was just leaving anyway."

Lady could only watch his back through eyes clouded with tears. His voice had slipped back into that same hollow tone and it reverberated around her head making that queasy feeling return full force. A woman was at her bedside trying to calm her, though Lady could barely register anything beyond Dante's hurt expression and a sudden stab of regret in her own heart.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah... erm... -shuffles away-_

_Oh yeah and please don't flame me because 'abortion is wrong yadda yadda' I'm not in the mood for politics right now and besides this story doesn't express my own views on the subject. Quite frankly, my own views are somewhat divided._

_-Lady Luce_


	4. Aviophobia

**-Phobias-**

-Lady Luce-

* * *

Aviophobia: Fear of Flying

* * *

"Oh for pity's sake would you sit still? You're behaving worse than the children!" Eva scolded her husband who was fidgeting in his seat.

Sparda glanced across the aisle to where his sons were sitting both vying for the seat nearest the window. It had been agreed that Vergil would sit in the window seat for take-off and they would swap half-way through the journey, but after the elder twin had made some remark about the take-off being far more exciting the arguing had begun again. As soon as they were inside the plane the boys had set off on a mad dash to their seats, leaving Sparda and Eva to apologise for the havoc which had been caused in the process. Vergil had beaten his twin by a fraction of a second and sat down with an incredibly smug smile on his face leaving Dante fuming. Now the younger twin was putting up a valiant struggle to remove the elder from his seat – and failing miserably. Vergil was finding the situation increasingly amusing – which only served to add to his brother's ire – as he deliberately blocked as much of the small window as possible from Dante's view.

Sparda didn't honestly know how it was possible that he was behaving worse than them, but then again for the twins this wasn't _bad_ behaviour. Neither of them had tried to tear the other limb from limb – _yet_; Dante was looking pretty close to breaking point.

The Dark-Knight huffed indignantly and turned his attention back to his wife. "Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"

Eva pursed her lips. "Maybe, but they're children, they're allowed to behave like that. You're the two thousand year old demon."

Sparda was about to reply when a yelp from across the aisle confirmed that Dante had finally lost it and bitten his twin's arm – which had previously been blocking the window from the younger's view. It wasn't particularly good sportsmanship to bite one's opponent, but then again he had little else to use as a weapon, and Dante's fighting style had always been a little unorthodox. At least he didn't play dirty when they were sparring… he just didn't play by the rules either. It was something Sparda had learnt about his sons a long time ago. Dante tended to rush in all guns blazing – figuratively; Eva had decided that swords were enough for now – and think on his feet. It often meant that he was reduced to rash moves in order to evade oncoming attack and also meant that at times he required more speed than he could muster. And a fraction of a second was all Vergil needed. The twins truly were polar opposites and it showed clearly when they were fighting. Vergil had learnt everything by the book, sticking to every form of moral conduct which his brother severely lacked. Both children were eager to learn new things, though Dante would become bored quickly and move on to something else whereas Vergil would hone ever skill to a deadly precision.

"Dante don't bite your brother," Eva chided before turning back to her husband. The engines of the Boeing 747 were humming softly now and her husband's face had paled visibly. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Is there something the matter?"

"Oh, no, everything's fine," Sparda reassured her, his voice reaching a squeaky falsetto on the last word.

A small smile broke across Eva's face at the sound; it reminded her of an adolescent boy's voice breaking. She wondered if her husband had ever experienced the humiliation of puberty, she knew nearly everything about him, but she had failed to ask him that particular question and made a note to question him about it later.

She watched him closely as the plane taxied to the run-way seeing his jaw clench. Sparda was still an enigma to her and though she had goaded so much about his life out of him she knew there was still so much she didn't know; what little she did know about him was merely the tip of the ice-burg. Eva tended not to bother herself with it, satisfied to know that she was the only person in the world who truly knew the _real_ Sparda. Though there were times when she felt she had the right to know the things he kept hidden from her; his child-hood in particular was a subject constantly glossed over (to be honest she wasn't even sure he had had one, either that or he'd forgotten it). Eva contemplated that she knew so little about him very rarely, when she watched him and he didn't think she was looking there was something in his eyes that was alien to her. When he starred out of the window for a fraction of a second too long or looked into a glass of water as though he could see something in the transparent surface… She could not quite name the emotion she saw in his eyes and it troubled her occasionally. For now though they were going on what would be a nice happy family holiday and she wasn't going to let something like that ruin it.

"I just don't see why I couldn't have-" He was still arguing his point, but Eva cut across him quickly knowing what he was about to say.

"Because the last time I tried letting you fly me anywhere I almost ended up as a human pancake," Eva interjected and Sparda winced; she had never quite forgiven him for that. "And besides you couldn't have carried all three of us, not with those two going at it every two seconds."

Sparda mumbled something about tranquilizing them and Eva pretended not to notice though the idea had crossed her mind once before. She had of course been under immense stress at the time and could not be blamed for such thoughts. Twins alone would have been bad enough, but half demon twins? One could not be blamed for their actions with only three hours sleep and two screaming children constantly under their feet. It was enough to drive anyone mad and Eva was proud of herself for living through it when most would have been driven to homicide.

"I just don't like these… _machines_," Sparda huffed once again adjusting his seat belt. "How can they possibly be safe?"

Eva sighed dejectedly. Sparda seemed to have some grudge against technology; his mind had been left somewhere back in the eighteenth century and she had never quite been able to sway him.

"Humans are very careful creatures; you should know that by now-" if her reaction to Dante and Vergil's constant attempts at turning each other into sushi were anything to go by "- they aren't stupid either. This plane has been tested for any danger, and we wouldn't be allowed on if it weren't safe." Eva had a feeling her reasoning fell on deaf ears, but she persisted none the less. "And even if something bad did happen, we have you around don't we? Our own personal super-hero."

Sparda smiled slightly around his clenched teeth. "I'm not superman you know."

Eva's own smile broadened and she placed her hand over his on the armrest, giving it a tight squeeze as the engines rumbled to life roaring as the plane sped up, racing down the run-way. The Dark-Knight's eyes squeezed tight shut briefly and he took a quick breath before opening them again.

"I know," she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, temporarily taking his mind off the plane as it tilted back, wheels skidding on the run-way before lifting off the ground. A resounding '_eew_' from across the aisle only served to heighten Eva's amusement. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."

And that was the truth of the matter. Sparda wasn't superhuman; and his endearing little fear of flying only made her love him all the more.

* * *

_A/N: Fluff! It wasn't supposed to be THAT fluffy I was just in a weird mood obviously. Still I quite like it actually, I wrote it on the plane whilst I was on holiday then edited it a bit when I got back and I think it's actually better for being written in hand for once - 'coz I normally type everything._

_(Anyone wondering about a second part of my Tocophobia one I hopefully will write it, seeing as a few people were interested. If I do then I'll edit this thing so that it comes after the first half)._

_-Lady Luce_


	5. Tocophobia 2

-Lady Luce-

_A/N: I wasn't gonna post this yet, but I got a review from some idiot claiming that I was bashing Lady (I may not like Dante/Lady, but I like Lady, I like all the DMC girls (minus Gloria)). Depending on whether you agree/disagree with abortion Lady seems like more or less of a bad person and to be honest I feel for Lady and the situation I put her in so I don't look on her aborting a child as badly as some people may. Now that I've said that I would like to say to this person who reviewed so rudely and made a fool of themself that I would appreciate it if they didn't review again. They've been leaving warped attempts at constructive critisim on all of my fics and it's bugging me. (How do I know it's the same person? The severe lack of punctuation and the same style of reviewing). I am sorry if this seems rude, but I this isn't helping my mental state right now, whilst I appreciate **constructive** critisism I do not appreciate these obnoxious reviews._

* * *

Tocophobia: Fear of Pregnancy

Chapter 2

* * *

Dante didn't quite know how long he had been staring up at the ceiling fan, the blades spinning slowly as he lay on one of the over-stuffed sofas in the corner of his office desperately trying to sleep. The pale morning sunlight was spilling in through the picture windows which lined the front wall of his shop. He had been lying in more or less the same position all night, feet dangling over one arm of the sofa where he had thrown himself unceremoniously a few hours prior. After emptying a few bottles of his favourite beer dragging himself upstairs had seemed to be too much of an effort so he had collapsed onto the block of saw-dust and moulding fabric which called itself a couch.

His head was throbbing dully with the after effects of the alcohol and his mouth was dry. He must have slept at some point last night if only for a few hours, but he couldn't recall ever dropping off. His mind had been whirring all night and still was; he could barely get a few moments of peace before the ordeal of only a few days ago returned to his mind.

Lady would be returning today. Even if she wasn't going to stay she needed to collect her belongings. Currently he was in conflict; he didn't want her to leave, despite their regular arguments – ranging between friendly banter and attempts at homicide – she was the first proper friend he'd had in a long time. The experience they'd shared in Temin-Ni-Gru had brought them together as friends and he didn't know if he could bear to watch her go. At the same time though how could he ask her to stay? And part of him wanted her to leave. Part of him wanted to yell at her for not having the decency to tell him what had been happening. Dante knew that in the end he would leave it up to Lady to decide exactly what happened today, but he didn't quite know how he'd ever be able to look at her the same way again if she stayed. If she left, his heart sank a little at the thought, he'd be alone again. He was used to the feeling; he'd just never been particularly comfortable with it.

It had been three days since he'd left the hospital and three sleepless nights accompanied by whatever form of liquor he could get his hands on. He wasn't one for depressive binges, but he had needed something – anything – to get his mind off it all. His jaw clenched inadvertently at the thought. He could have had a kid; he'd never quite seen that happening in his life, he'd never really longed for children, never thought about settling down… that was until that night four days ago when he'd sat up awake all night at the hospital running it all through his head. A boy or a girl? White hair like his or dark like Lady's? Would it have had traces of his mother and father in it? Hints of Kalina-Ann and… Arkham (he shuddered mentally at the thought). What would he have called it? What would its first word have been? He clenched his fist, nails digging into the soft skin of his palm. It hadn't even lived, how could something die when it hadn't taken a breath? Did one go to funerals for this sort of thing? Would there be a grave somewhere? Would he have to choose a name just so that it could be etched onto a head-stone? He pressed the back of his arm across his eyes feeling a head-ache rise in his skull. Or did they just throw whatever had been left of it away like surgical waste? Had Lady given them permission to do that? Would they have done that to something that was part of him... without his permission…?

Dante swiped for the bottle of beer he had left somewhere on the floor and downed the remainder in one breath. He knew it wouldn't help his head ache – Lady would scold him for it if she were here right now – but he didn't give a damn. How had this happened? How had he let this happen?

Swinging his feet from the sofa he waited for the spots to clear from his eyes before he made a move towards his desk running a hand through his hair. Exhaustion and inebriation was not a good mix. He knew that he hadn't had that much to drink, but getting barely two hours of sleep for the past four nights seemed to have worn him down. It was a relief to finally get off his feet again as he fell into the leather chair at his desk. Immediately he began rifling through the draws in search of more alcohol, preferably something stronger than before. Right now he wanted to forget this had ever happened and at one point in his life someone had told him alcohol killed brain-cells. That seemed just perfect right about now.

He found a bottle of whiskey in a bottom draw and unscrewed the cap flicking it across the room before taking a swig. His head-ache flared in protest, but he ignored it enjoying the tingling feeling slowly spreading through his veins. The room wasn't quite spinning, but it wasn't exactly still either. Somewhere deep down he knew he was being selfish. If he didn't stop right now he'd be too far gone for Lady to even say good-bye to him properly. But then again so what? Had she thought about the selfishness of what she had done? Had she thought to tell him she was pregnant, to discuss it with him first before simply making the decision herself and throwing it all away? No, she hadn't and so why should he care at all if he was being selfish?

With that thought clear in his mind he tipped his head back and began to drain the bottle. By the time Lady got back he'd be either unconscious or flat out drunk and then he wouldn't have to listen to any painful good-byes; because god knew there was nothing at all good about them.

* * *

Lady wasn't sure whether she was more relieved to be finally away from the hospital, with all its wires and psychiatrists asking her stupid questions, or horrified at what she'd have to face upon stepping through the doors. Standing warily on the porch at the front of Devil May Cry she could hear the rock music blaring through the juke-box speakers from outside. If the music was turned up _that_ loud it quite often meant that Dante was in a bad mood. If Dante was in a bad mood then he would most likely have gone in search of alcohol by now. And if he was drunk she didn't want anything to do with him. The last time he had been drunk had lead to this predicament.

She shifted from foot to foot restlessly glancing about and knowing she couldn't avoid the confrontation, but not wanting to see Dante if he was in a state. Lady fiddled with the keys in her pocket feeling unnaturally nervous. It was a most unusual sensation for Lady and she wasn't fond of it. Truth be told though she was nervous – even slightly afraid – of Dante when he was like this (mainly because it was not a normal occurrence). He was angry with her though, he more than likely felt betrayed by her now that he knew the reason why she had wanted to do away with the thing so badly. She knew how much he cursed the demon blood in him too, though it seemed to have eased with time it was obviously still an issue for him.

Smoothing out the fresh t-shirt, which Dante had dropped off at the hospital reception two days ago, she tested the door to see if it was locked. It wasn't; she hadn't expected it to be. The blast of music as the artist – how they could have the audacity to call themselves artists Lady didn't know – strangled some poor guitar nearly knocked her off her feet. Hesitantly she made her way over to the juke-box and turned the volume down until the music was at a low thrum then scanned the office for any sign of the half-demon.

Somewhere in the past hour or so Dante had migrated back to the sofa, though he appeared to have missed his target – or rolled off during some dream, Lady couldn't tell. As it was he lay sprawled half on the moth-eaten red couch eyes closed and his breathing heavy, an empty bottle on the floor next to him. A few more were scattered about the office and Lady had to stop herself from going to clean up after him.

Lady knew that she could be packed and out of there before he was awake, but some part of her was rooted to the spot. She hadn't quite realized the effect the whole thing seemed to have had on him even after he stormed out of the hospital four days ago. She had coped with the whole thing perfectly well – in fact she was filled with a sense of relief now that it was dead. She had never expected him to react like this and found herself regretting her actions once again. Not for the baby, there was nothing on earth which could have made her keep it, but maybe she should have told him, let it sink in, try to talk him into it. She knew, or at least hoped, that if she'd explained it rationally Dante would have seen sense… instead her plan had back-fired and they'd both ended up for the worse.

She took a breath and hesitantly brushed some of the hair out of his eyes. He was currently lying on his stomach with his head buried in a pillow making it nearly impossible to see his face beneath the snow-drift of hair. Lady had to resist the suddenly bizarre urge to stroke the smooth skin of his cheek or do something stupid. He looked so peaceful in sleep – even an alcohol induced sleep – like a child; he was even drooling on the pillow. Lady smiled and straightened up deciding to leave him for now. He probably needed the rest and if she packed first it might be easier saying good-bye, though there was always the danger that she wouldn't have the guts and would just leave.

Lady was as quiet as possible as she made her way upstairs and packed quickly. The realization that she didn't actually own much struck her as she carefully zipped up her suitcase and slung Kalina-Ann over her shoulder. Another padded shoulder bag carried her precious guns. She only owned the very basics one needed to survive; a few changes of clothes, one elegant dress which she was loath to wear, but owned for some strange reason, a few trinkets from her child-hood and some items which had belonged to her mother. Things she never looked at, but always knew were there. Her lack of material possession made her feel somewhat wistful, not because she felt lacking in life, but because her life had always felt somewhat full since Temin-Ni-Gru. Was it something to do with her unfinished business concerning her father, or had it been meeting Dante…? Her life now wasn't a glamorous one, but there was never a dull moment. A sinking feeling in her stomach told her that it would all change if she left. Part of her felt that she didn't really have the choice. It would be wrong to assume that she could just stay here after everything that had happened. If only she could turn back time; she thought as she shut the door to her room and made her way back down-stairs.

She was more than a little surprised to see Dante awake when she came back down-stairs. He was currently with his back to her, resting heavily against his desk rummaging through the draws and then fumbling with something he couldn't quite seem to keep hold of. Lady was almost certain he hadn't noticed her yet. She moved over hesitantly trying to make herself speak, but unable to do so. When he finally dropped what he had been holding she bent down and picked it up before he could fall over in any attempts to retrieve it.

Dante seemed slightly confused before catching on that there was someone else in the room. Lady hesitantly placed the aspirin on the table for him as his eyes widened considerably. He tried to say something, but couldn't get the words out and instead snatched at the packet of pills knocking them back onto the floor clumsily. This time he bent down for them and Lady did the same when their hands touched he snatched his away as though he'd been burnt.

"Dante…"

"I don't need your help," he replied through gritted teeth catching hold of the packet and then standing up again, leaning against his desk for support.

Lady watched him silently uncertain of what to say though the words somehow found her lips as she reached out to steady him when he tripped over his feet in an attempt to get to his chair.

"Yes you do, you're drunk," she replied firmly trying to use her best 'do as you're told' tone of voice. It had worked before, though she had half known it wouldn't this time.

He shoved her away roughly and gripped the desk to hold himself upright. "I'll be fine; I don't need you to look after me."

"But-"

He rounded on her then eyes burning so brightly Lady was certain she'd get hit by sparks. "Just leave!"

Lady backed up half a step, but folded her arms across her chest none the less. "I'm not leaving you like this."

"It's your fault I'm like this in the first place," he snapped words slurring slightly.

Lady bristled at the comment angry at him for the selfish attitude. "No, this is your fault! I'm not letting you blame me for the state you've gotten yourself in because it's nothing to do with me. What on earth did you hope to achieve by doing this?"

His lips quivered a second as though he were about to speak, but no sound came out. He turned leaning heavily on the desk as he finally fell into his chair resting his head in his hands.

"Answer my question dammit!" Lady yelled finally loosing it. She'd had enough of him and his bad habits. Dante either thought himself invincible to the effects alcohol had on humans, or he honestly didn't care about his own well-being. All she knew was that his ability to burry himself at the bottom of a bottle had been the beginning of this affair and it was getting on her nerves.

When she got no reply her fury only intensified. "I'm having a hard time too you know! Do know how long I had to stay cooped up in that place with stupid people asking me stupid questions? I had to endure days of being told what my problems were and what I should do with my life. And I was worried about you too, even if you don't believe that, and you know what I knew you'd do this. Because that's what you always do! You proclaim yourself to be an almighty demon hunter, but you're too much of a coward to face your own problems!"

Her voice lowered a little as she suddenly realised she'd been shouting. "Look I know your problems are bigger than most peoples, but you have to get over this Dante, it's not the end of the world. I was selfish; I admit that, it was wrong of me… I should have told you, but can't you understand that this was hard on me too?"

"Yeah that's why you killed it," came the morbid reply tinged with sarcasm.

"I couldn't have kept that baby don't you understand that?" Lady asked resting on the edge of the desk and trying to reach his eyes through the bangs obscuring his features. "It didn't matter that it was yours I couldn't cope with a child right now." She was lying and she knew she was. She may not have been able to cope with a child, but she would have considered it… if it hadn't been his.

He snorted shaking his head slightly, obviously seeing right through the lie after their encounter in the hospital.

"What do you want me to say, Dante?" She asked softly wishing that he'd just look at her if only for a moment. "I won't lie to you."

Dante lifted his head finally and met her gaze with his icy blue eyes. "Why don't you just kill me?" He held something out to her in his hand and Lady's eyes widened in shock.

"What?" Lady exclaimed unable to comprehend what he had just said.

"You obviously still have a problem with me, with what I am. I'm surprised you managed to hide it so well. So maybe you should just kill me and get rid of one more demon, eh? Doesn't that sound like a good idea?"

"Shut up!" She yelled smacking the knife from his hand and sending is spinning across the room. "I'll make you wish for death if you don't stop acting like this," Lady threatened leaning over the desk to stare him in the eye. "For god's sake you need to snap out of this!"

He merely stared at her dumbly and she turned away quickly unable to stop the anger flaring through her. His attitude was quickly trying her patience, it was pathetic, _he_ was pathetic!

"We can talk when you're sober," she said finally. "Until then I'm staying here."

* * *

_A/N: Yes there will be another chapter after this. If it seems as though I'm repeating myself I apologise I was going to leave it as is, but quite a few people asked for another chapter so I decided to write, but at the same time I wasn't certain of exactly what to write._

_I was really considering cutting that last bit out, but I left it because people act rashly in strange and stressful situations and yeah. _

_Oh and I keep on considering a prequel for this too err not sure what's gonna happen on that front._

_**Constructive** critisim is welcomed!_

_-Lady Luce_


	6. Hoplophobia

**-Phobias-**

-Lady Luce-

* * *

Hoplophobia: Fear of Guns

* * *

The door heaved open a crack with a grinding sigh and Vergil felt his heart beat race a little faster as pale yellow light spilled into the dark room beyond. He didn't know how many times they'd been told that this room was of limits. Though the fact that entering the room was strictly forbidden only made Vergil even more curious to know what was inside. Not that the contents of his father's study were any great secret, but he never got long enough to study the various ornaments and artefacts in this room.

Dante was bouncing on the balls of his feet behind his twin anxiously trying to peer over his head into the room beyond. Both of them could feel it, an electric buzz in their blood and something intangible niggling at the backs of their minds though the message was clear; something inside the room was calling them.

Finally the door slid open far enough for the pair to slip inside. Vergil quickly snatched the keys – which he had filched from their mother's room earlier that day – from the lock and leant against the heavy wooden door closing it until the room lay in darkness again.

This was possibly one of the grandest rooms in their house. Dominated by an enormous fireplace its gaping maw was a pitch black vacuum seeming to suck all the light from the cavernous room. Flanked by two winged leather chairs and a pair of engraved obsidian pillars a coal scuttle sat to one side the once golden material now soot covered black. Two tall picture windows were covered with thick velvet curtains allowing only a small chink of light to pierce the inky blackness. Floor to ceiling book cases lined the walls and a desk sat brooding in a dark corner a high backed chair waiting silently in front of the polished mahogany. The smell of dust hung thickly in the air mingled with the scent of old books and sulphur from the long burnt out fire.

The twins took all this in with the blink of an eye their gazes quickly lighting on the flicker of a silver flame in the darkness. Glass cases were dotted about the room containing weapons and trophies or in a few cases old and valuable books which were seconds from turning into dust. It was a pair in the centre of the room which caught the boys' attention now as they hurried forward feeling a sudden surge in their blood.

Dante pressed his nose against the case to the right holding a long-sword which towered over him as he gazed up at the dark hilt. The tapered blade stemmed from a well defined rib cage and spine with the hilt and cross guard punching out of the grisly skull at the top. It was _meant_ for his hands. Dante knew every time he laid eyes on it that one day it would be his. It took all his effort not to smash the glass open just to touch it. Every time he walked past this room he could hear it calling to him from inside and each time the burning need to see the sword seemed to intensify.

Vergil's reaction to the eastern sword in the left hand case was similar as he stared at it in awe. It was the perfect combination of power and elegance. A single flick from that well crafted blade could be both beautiful and deadly when in adept hands. The elder twin knew that one day those hands would be his. The sword had been made for him; how that was possible was not important, but something stronger than fate had chosen the blade for him and only him. It was beautifully crafted and sat now with a silent patience waiting its master. Vergil pressed his fingers against the thick glass as though he could push his hand through it through mere strength of will. Eva had hidden the keys to these cases in some impossible place that he would never think of. Whilst he knew that in the end it was for their safety Vergil had a hard time reminding himself of that.

A crash from across the room eventually brought the elder twin from his trance. His head snapped towards the direction the noise had come from, having great difficulty tearing his eyes from the sword, to see that Dante had moved away from Rebellion's display case. Of course his twin would have failed to obey the instructions of _Do Not Touch_ which Vergil had given him earlier. Dante had a habit of managing to break anything within his vicinity, even things which appeared to be at a safe distance would fall victim to a rogue football or the younger twin would just not be looking where he was going and walk straight into some priceless vase. Dante's latest victim was now shattered across the floor at his feet and both twin's froze momentarily waiting for Eva to hear and come racing up the stairs.

When she didn't Vergil stalked across the room – Yamato forgotten for a brief moment – and stopped at his twin's side when his foot crunched on a piece of broken glass which had once been a display case.

"What on earth did you do?" Vergil hissed keeping his voice low as he took in the destruction which his brother had caused.

"I was just-"

"Didn't I tell you not to touch anything?" Vergil cut across his twin not in the mood for some sorry explanation for the carnage. He stooped down and brushed away some of the glass lifting up the shotgun which had previously been resting in the display case. He studied it carefully knowing that it had been customized from the weight in his hands. It was deceptively light and would be devastating at close range though he doubted the accuracy of the weapon at a distance. It was made for taking down creatures much larger than humans. He ran a finger over something engraved on the side unable to read it in the dim light.

"Well you're touching stuff now," Dante commented watching closely as Vergil inspected the gun with minor curiosity.

"Yes, but I don't break everything I set eyes on," Vergil snapped back removing some of the oil paper clogging the moving parts of the gun in order to get a better look at what was written on the barrel.

Dante hmphed and folded his arms before making his way to a book shelf glass crunching into the wooden floor-boards as he did so. Normally Vergil would have reprimanded him or ordered him to pick up the mess, but he was too busy examining the piece of craftsmanship in his hands to pay attention. He turned the gun over and over in his palms marvelling at the smooth wooden handle and tracing his fingers over the writing on the barrel. He couldn't read it and for some reason now he needed to know what it said; he wanted to know who had made the weapon.

"Hey Ver-"

The sudden deafening cry as the gun went off made Dante snap round to find the source of the noise (though if he'd considered it longer maybe he didn't actually want to know). Vergil took the bullets at point blank range and was thrown backwards with a howl of pain as they tore through his abdomen, tearing muscle and flesh, shattering bone with a sickening crack.

"-gil…" It took a frozen moment as Vergil was thrown through the air before Dante's mind registered what had happened. "Shit!"

Vergil hit the ground with a loud thump, the gun clattering to the floor next to him. The elder twin didn't move, blood quickly blooming around the wound and soaking through his shirt.

Dante stared a second longer then raced to the door tearing it open frantically and stumbling into the hall. "MOM!!"

Eva had already been alerted by the gun-shot and turned the corner into the corridor as Dante's cry reached her ears. It didn't take her long to put together the worst possible situation and she tore past Dante into the room taking stock of what had happened in seconds. Fear raced through her as she ran to Vergil's side trying to asses the damage done. It was hard, she knew Dante and Vergil shared some of their father's abilities, but to what extent she never knew. It hadn't seemed like a good idea to test them, though from previous experience she had deduced that they did have the ability to heal far faster than humans. The question was by how much?

Vergil wasn't moving, but she could tell he was alive at least, she doubted any normal human could say the same. Blood was spilling down his chin; the force of the bullets must have driven his ribs up into his lungs. She quickly pulled off her sweater and pressed it against his abdomen hoping to stem the bleeding as she reassessed the situation. Dante moved to stand behind her peering over her shoulder and looking worried though he said nothing.

It took a minute for Vergil's eyes to flicker open again and he coughed wetly before taking a heaving breath. Saying that it hurt like hell was possibly an understatement, but at least he wasn't dead. He could already feel the skin and organs slowly knitting back together, the bones snapping back into place.

"Vergil can you hear me?" Eva asked softly using her sleeve to wipe away some of the blood on his chin.

He groaned and raised a bloodied hand to his swimming vision trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Whilst his body seemed to be coping with the wound far better his mind was now playing catch up, the burning pain of taking two bullets to the gut was making it hard though.

"Just stay still for a second sweetie it'll stop hurting soon," Eva cooed brushing errant strands of hair from Vergil's pained face. The bleeding had already stopped and she knew that the wounds were already sealed over, but that did nothing to abate her concern.

"I'm fine…" Vergil attempted, but another hacking cough sprayed blood over his chin and he decided it was best not to protest. Apart from anything he didn't really want to. He was _not_ fine, it hurt and trying to act grown up didn't seem all that appealing at the moment. The only thing which stopped him from complaining about the pain was Dante's wide-eyed gaze lingering on him as he watched over Eva's shoulder.

Eva smiled recalling how many times she'd heard her husband say that. Sure Sparda could take a bullet to the brain and still be fine, but there had been times when he would never admit that something had in fact hurt – just like Vergil was doing now. She saw a lot of Sparda in her sons sometimes; it was almost painful to watch them.

"You're not, just stay still," Eva said softly removing the sweater she'd been using to staunch the wound. Though it was hard to tell through the blood she was certain that Vergil had healed and that it would be of no more use. She was just about to see if Vergil could sit up when the younger twin now sitting to her right caught her attention.

"Dante let go of that," she snapped snatching the shotgun from his hand and flicking out the shells with a deftness only one with years of training could possess. She stood, hurriedly placed the gun on a high shelf before turning back to her sons suddenly remembering that she should be cross with them.

Dante was the first to notice his mother's change in demeanour and jabbed a finger at his twin. "It was his idea!"

"Dante," Vergil hissed though he didn't have the strength to say much else.

"I don't care whose idea this was I have told you not to come in this room and now look what's happened!" Eva scolded hands on hips all fear for her sons' safety forgotten. "As soon as Vergil's feeling better I'll think of a suitable punishment."

* * *

Dante grinned folding his arms across his chest as he recounted the tale to a slightly surprised Lady. She couldn't help smiling at Vergil's failing attempt to stay out of the conversation. He was trying desperately to pay attention to his book, but she could see a vein on his forehead twitching as Dante continued on with enthusiasm. Vergil had asked for it though, he had once again been griping about how guns were brutish dishonourable weapons and Dante had decided to put a stop to it. 

"So you see that's why he doesn't like guns," Dante finished eyes fixed on Vergil waiting for his reaction. "It's not because he thinks they're _'not proper weapons'_ or however he puts it, it's because he's afraid of them!"

Vergil's book finally dropped to his lap and he rounded on his younger twin. "I am _not_ afraid of them."

"Yeah says you," Dante replied smirking at Vergil's irate expression. He had learned in the past month or so that it was still incredibly easy to wind his brother up and it was far too much fun watching him when he was in a bad mood.

"I am not-"

"Well it would explain a lot," Lady joined in thoughtfully twirling one of her own pistols around her finger. "It's fine to be afraid of something everyone is."

Vergil blinked, how could she be listening to his brother and taking him seriously? Didn't she know that Dante couldn't say anything sensible for longer than two seconds before it was turned into a joke? "I'm not afraid of those _things_."

"It's alright bro, like she said it's okay to be afraid," Dante continued standing up and crossing the room to where his brother was still sitting on the couch. He spread his arms out with mock enthusiasm. "Do you need a hug?"

Vergil threw his twin a death glare as he rose to his feet and brushed past completely ignoring Dante's out-spread arms; not that Dante had really expected him to accept the offer.

"I guess that's a no then," he observed as Vergil moved over to the table where Lady was still sitting. As much as Vergil would have liked to storm off and find somewhere quiet that would be backing down and admitting defeat, neither of which he would do willingly.

"Well then seeing as Vergil's still in denial I'm gonna go have a shower," he watched his brother's face curiously now noting that his twin seemed calmer than ever. That was something he had learned to be afraid of; his brother was watching him with the detached serenity of a psychopath.

Heading for the door he threw one last remark over his shoulder unable to stop annoying his twin despite the fact he was now on very dangerous ground. "Vergil just doesn't like things he can't control, do you Verg? Me being one of them."

Lady didn't have the time to speak as Vergil snatched her gun from her grasp aiming it at the back of his brother's head. A second later there was a resounding bang and Dante dropped to the ground like a sack of grain.

"Maybe I should revise my opinion of these a little," Vergil said handing the gun back to the still stunned Lady and smirking at his brother's pained grunt. "It appears that they do in fact have their uses."

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to destructo888 for telling me the proper term for a fear of guns! Take a guess at what was written on the side of the shotgun XD I had this idea stuck in my head and it wouldn't let go once it was there though I couldn't manage to fit it into the fic. Also this is one of those fics where Vergil is just back in the human world... I don't know how he got there don't ask me!_

_-Lady Luce_


	7. Clustrophobia

**Phobias**

**Lady Luce**

* * *

Clustrophobia: Fear of Enclosed Spaces

* * *

It was dark. That was the thing you noticed about this place the most, after all how could you not notice it? It was a gaping chasm with no up or down, everything drained from it into nothingness and yet it pressed in on him from all sides, seeping into every pore starving his lungs of air. Every way he turned was black until he began to wonder about his own existence. Was he a being anymore or merely a mentality lost inside a vacuum? It was a bizarre out of body sensation until he had to pinch the tender skin of his arm to remind himself that he could feel, until only his dreams told him of a tangible world beyond this prison.

And every night, or day, or whenever he slept now he was woken gasping back into this darkness shaking from the receding claws of a nightmare. He stretched out a hand and was met with solid resistance, cool steel beneath his finger-tips. Vergil had to check every so often just to make sure it was still there in case his cage was gone now and he only had the door between him and daylight. Every time he hoped, prayed and once again felt the darkness close in around him as the truth washed over him like freezing water.

He was forgetting everything beyond his world now and the hollow in his chest was slowly being filled with a burning hatred; hatred for the people who had put him here, who had destroyed his pride, starved him, chained him, beaten him and then finally shut him away in the darkness. To be honest he couldn't remember the last time he'd had food, not that he could count the days; time had been rendered meaningless in this place.

At first he'd screamed and cried blue-murder into the darkness punched at the walls until his knuckles bled and finally detached himself from everything and become resigned to his hell. He should have known it was coming. His life had deteriorated the day his mother died; he'd escaped from the demons that captured him and run only to be wandering foreign streets until he was bundled into care. Maybe it was his own fault, he hadn't spoken or told them who he was, maybe if he'd cooperated more they would have helped him, or at least that's what he told himself in hours of self-loathing.

Now he knew better though, his time shut away with only his thoughts let him think things through with a little more coherence. They knew he wasn't human, if the platinum hair and unnaturally bright blue eyes hadn't been a dead give away then his super-human strength and reflexes were. Breaking point had been when a gash on his cheek, which had been inflicted mere seconds ago, healed right in front of their eyes. Maybe some people would have embraced his 'gift' or taken him to the doctor – something along those lines, but of course life was never quite so kind.

The Jameson family was devoutly catholic, something which had annoyed Vergil from the start seeing as he was forced to go to church and attend Sunday school. He had put up with it though because he was sensible enough to keep his mouth shut. He only had to live with these people for another eight years, seven if he was lucky. The thought had made him feel sick. The trouble had started when they had wanted to get him christened. Vergil didn't honestly know what he believed in, but he was _not_ about to let them brand him like that. He'd wondered at the irony of it, speculated on it late into the night. Maybe the holy water would simply burst into flame before it touched his brow, maybe the earth would open up and swallow him to remind him where he truly belonged. Either way he was not having it and he had told them that.

It was the first time Mr. Jameson had hit him; hard. Right across the face so that his cheek cut into his teeth and there was blood in his mouth. Vergil hadn't retaliated that time, simply wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and glowered until his blue eyes flared sapphire. His mother had always told him that there'd be people in the world who would hate him for what he was. That there were bad people out there who wanted to hurt him, he'd just been fortunate enough not to meet any humans who wanted him dead. At least until now… as the days got closer and closer to the date of his christening arguments became increasingly often.

On that fateful day Vergil had finally snapped, refused to get in the car and when Mr. Jameson had tried to drag him he had shown him his full strength. A brutal twist of his wrist and the man's arm had been broken in three places. Now as he lay with his cheek pressed against the cool metal floor he knew he should have run, but the blinding rage which had engulfed him left little room for logical thought. Maybe he would have kept his cool if they hadn't insulted his parents, but he should have expected such a low blow from the man.

They were ashamed of him that much was clear; why they hadn't simply killed him he hadn't a clue. Two days he had been locked in his room chained to the bed – he would have been able to escape had they left him alone. Those two days were spent with a shot-gun levelled at his forehead.

And then… darkness; the same darkness which still haunted him, the same stale air. Twice he had been brought food; those two brief periods of light had given him enough time to see the air holes in the top of the steel crate. The distance between his last meal had been greater than any time before and he was beginning to think that he'd simply been left here to die.

That was until what could have been hours or days later when a sliver of light blinded him. It was so bright it burnt his retinas, made him suddenly blind, but it was different to the darkness. The light absorbed space whereas darkness created it, the rays washed over him waking his numbed mind to sudden life and he sought it blindly.

"Vergil," it was a girl's voice – small and quiet; scared."Are you alive?"

Vergil couldn't get his vocal chords to work, he couldn't find the coherence to remember how and his mind was focused on remembering the voice. It came to him slowly, dream-like. The Jameson's had a kid, a little girl…

"I'm opening the crate. Mom and Dad are asleep," she explained softly the light increasing as she pulled the door back. "If you hurry you can escape."

As soon as a hand clenched around the edge of his steel prison she drew back and with a defiant shove it flew open. In the half-light of the room the only thing she could make out was his eyes in the pit of the crate. They scared her so much she stumbled back and tripped. They were in-human, reflecting the light like a cat's would car headlights.

Before she could scream a hand had clamped around her throat the bony fingers biting into her skin. She could feel the rage coming off him in waves; see it in his fiery eyes though she dared not look. He was a creature from her nightmares, when she'd heard the screams in the night and shoved her head under the pillow to block them out. There was blood on his hands on his forehead, arms – his blood – where he'd clawed at his skin and scratched at the walls.

She tugged at the hand sealed about her throat with both of hers but it was no use; she was going to die.

"I saved you," it was a choked whisper and Vergil only half heard it. He squeezed tighter fingers burning into her flesh, feeling the racing pulse beneath his finger-tips, the fragile bones just waiting to snap. He couldn't answer her, he half wanted to. Compared to her parents this girl wasn't going to feel a thing.

Seconds ticked by, she kicked out, squirmed frantically, blind with panic though she knew she was dead. Vergil watched her callously. The girl he had called sister for half a year was watching her life trickle away like sand in an hour glass and maybe only just understanding what her family had done. They'd created a monster.

* * *

_A/N: Err this is... weird. I was wondering why Vergil turned out so different you know? I mean yeah, there's always the theory that Eva paid more attention to Dante, and parents normally treat the elder twin differently, but really does that explain someone turning into a psychopath? Maybe I guess, but I'm always one to err explore possibilties... and this is the product. I was origionally gonna make it longer, decided to leave it there because I liked it. There might be another chapter to this which is a bit more light hearted, but it seemed weird to stick a light-hearted bit right after I'd written psycho Vergil... Yep._

_Next chapter of Tocophobia is coming, I just wrote myself into a corner..._

_-Lady Luce_


	8. Tocophobia 3

-Lady Luce-

_A/N: I am sorry for not updating this for so long. I started this chapter at the beginning of October and it's now the end of January which is not good. The funny thing is I wrote this in about a week and I've been agonizing over it for the past three months or so. There were a few things in this chapter I took out stuck in took out again, I've read it through half a dozen times and cringed quite a lot, but in the end I realized that despite the fact I'm not one hundred percent certain about it I don't think it's going to change drastically and I mares well stick it up. (Best do it now whilst I'm half asleep and can't think straight). So thank you for all the reviews and most importantly, thanks for waiting :)_

_

* * *

_

Tocophobia: Fear of Pregnancy

Chapter 3

* * *

A static silence had risen into the air with the end of their argument and Lady was only beginning to feel it abating now that Dante had dragged himself upstairs. She wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to, but he had been adamant that he didn't need help even when he nearly fell back down again. She tried to ignore the retching noises and the constant sound of running water hoping that this would remind Dante not to do something so stupid next time. Still after only a few moments she found herself climbing the stairs anxiously to check that he was okay. She knew that no matter whether she liked it or not she was responsible for the state he was in and she wanted to make sure that he was alright even if he only yelled at her again. In a way that helped compared to the cold Dante who had spoken to her at the hospital four days ago; she deserved it, needed his anger to be directed her so that she could be mad back. Twisted logic maybe, but it helped and she had a feeling it helped him too. 

Truth be told Dante had been sliding into this depression for weeks, it had all been a train-wreck just waiting to happen. She had only first accepted the fact that Dante could in fact get depressed the night that had started the whole affair. Despite the fact that she had almost certainly had too much to drink that night she could still remember it.

Maybe it was the rain which she remembered the most; it had been coming down in sheets. Scraping and hammering against the roof of Devil May Cry, the wind howling and sending shivers up and down the shuttered windows. A sharp clap of thunder came every minute or so followed by a flash of lightning which seeped in through the windows giving the room an eerie, supernatural quality. Dante's 'trophies' had only served to heighten the mood, making the place similar to the set of some crappy teen horror flick. The smell of rain and ozone hung in the air like death, its scent seeping into clothes and skin lingering in every tiny crack of the paint chipped walls.

Lady had known something was wrong as soon as she came home from her previous job; either that or the weather had been getting to her. Dante was in his usual place reclined in the same stale leather chair his boots propped up on the desk dripping murky rain-water onto its undusted surface. His face had been distant, eyes clouded as he stared at the opposite wall obviously lost in thought. That in itself was something uncommon for Dante, he rarely thought about anything he did, much less mused over things in such a distracted manner.

* * *

Resting Kalina-Ann down against the wall with a heavy sigh she crossed the room, perched on the corner of the desk across from him and tried to catch his eyes. Whether he was deliberately avoiding her or not she couldn't tell, but he didn't even acknowledge her presence as she sat down. 

"Are you still moping?" She asked this time successfully drawing his mind back to the world of the living.

"I'm not moping," he protested flatly raising the bottle in his hand for another sip though Lady quickly placed her hand over the top and pushed it gently back down. The slight slur in his words told her that he'd had enough already and it took a lot for him to get to that point in the first place.

He glared at her accusingly and she reluctantly removed her hand not wanting to start an argument over something so petty. Dante was a half-demon she was certain he wouldn't die of liver failure. And besides dying had never seemed like much of an issue to him anyway.

"What do you call this then?" She questioned trying to keep the annoyance out of her tone as he once again devoted himself to his drink.

He shrugged half-heartedly. "I'm bored."

Lady wasn't buying it, she knew there was something wrong and was determined to get to the bottom of it. Once set on a task she was not easily distracted. It was nice, Dante supposed, that there was someone who cared about him enough to keep going on like this, though he wasn't quite sure whether he appreciated it or not.

"If there's something wrong you know you can tell me," she said softly truly sincere though she rarely was so true to her emotions, especially around him.

"I don't need you getting all sentimental on me," he replied eyes thinning as he turned away again to stare out though a darkened window. "I just… don't like the rain."

She nodded in understanding, as much as Lady liked the occasional storm there was something deeply depressing about this one; something stale and morbid about the constant pounding of the rain and then ominous silence in-between each drop. She rubbed her arms trying to create some friction and warm herself up wondering whether the heating was broken again or whether Dante had forgotten to turn it on. Maybe demons didn't feel cold as much as humans either… she had often thought this considering the clothes he insisted on wearing.

The silence dragged on again and Lady could tell that Dante's thoughts had drifted back out to the world beyond… though beyond what she wasn't quite sure.

"You missed a job today," she said eventually trying to remain nonchalant, though Dante had in fact missed two jobs and it was beginning to worry her. There was silence again for a second, he either hadn't heard her or couldn't be bothered to muster a reply. "I had to do all the work for you."

"Sorry," he mumbled between mouthfuls of drink. "Must have slipped my mind."

"Dante… are you okay?" She asked concernedly as he made a point of avoiding her searching gaze.

"I'm fine," he grunted back absently watching the liquid swirling at the bottom of the beer bottle.

"Dante-"

"I'm fine," he snapped voice a little harsher than intended.

Her brows creased, but she said no more on the subject and tried to focus on something else though it was hard to. Dante's foul mood hung in the air like the rain-clouds darkening the sky and she couldn't shake it from her own mind as she stood intending to make her way to the couch and find a magazine to read when his voice stopped her.

"Today's the day she died… fifteen years ago now," he said finally, bluntly, as though he had been in conflict over whether to tell her or not and knew that it was his last chance to say something. His eyes remained fixed on the bottle in his lap. Lady didn't have to ask who _she_ was as her eyes wandered absently to the picture of Eva on Dante's desk. He smiled wryly and something in his chest tightened painfully like flesh healing around a scar. "It was raining like this then too."

Lady's mouth opened as though she wanted to speak then snapped shut again when she couldn't find the words. She understood what loosing a parent was like, but she had never had the time to truly think on it. Rage and the desire for vengeance had fuelled her on until that night on Temin-Ni Gru and now that it was all over she no longer wished to dwell on the matter. It was no longer about fulfilling her vendetta and she could finally let her mother's memory rest. From what little she knew about his mother's death Lady knew that Dante hadn't had the chance to kill his mother's murderer. Maybe then he would finally be able to let it all go? Though for some reason she doubted it. Eva's death marked far more than just the loss of a mother. Dante had lost his twin that night too and he had to be reminded of all that now. All those painful memories and on top of that this terrible weather, it was enough to make anyone depressed.

She shuffled her feet half turned to face him, confused as to which direction she should go and wondering what on earth she could say. He started fishing around in a bottom draw for another bottle and she turned back wanting to get him out of this depression preferably without the help of alcohol.

Reaching his desk again she gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. "Dante."

He wouldn't have it and jerked his head away turning his attention back to the bottom draw. She gave a frustrated sigh and sat down on his desk kicking the draw shut with her foot. He looked up at her accusingly, but she only folded her arms across her chest.

"Look, I know you don't want to think about it, but wouldn't talking about it be better?" She asked once again trying to catch his eyes though it seemed impossible through the snow drift of hair.

"What are you my psychiatrist now?" He asked moodily.

"No, it's just I hate seeing you like this, Dante, please," she said desperately uncertain of how to continue. She rested a palm against his cheek and turned his face gently so that he was looking at her. "Please let me help."

The moment was broken by a flash of lightning, before Dante could register what had happened she had moved away towards the fridge fetching herself a can of beer. To be honest the storm was making her tense and combined with his mood she felt that she needed something to help her relax.

"Come sit with me?" She suggested turning towards the sofa. He obliged but only after finding that bottle he'd been searching for in his bottom draw.

Lady looked at him accusingly and he scowled. "Hypocrite."

She sighed in defeat and sipped her beer welcoming the tingling taste as it washed down her throat. They fell into silence for a while, only broken by the occasional roll of thunder; Dante was half-way through his bottle when she finally decided to speak.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Leave it," he grunted taking another long swig to emphasize his point.

"You shouldn't bottle things up," she chastised watching him slowly.

He rolled his eyes at her. "There's nothing to say. It was a long time ago."

She was not convinced; apart from the fact that she doubted Dante had come to accept the fact that his mother had been stolen from him she knew there must be something else bothering him. She finished off her can and went to fetch another one, this time bringing the whole six-pack back to the table. Maybe she should just give up with tonight and find something good on TV to watch. She felt that she'd earned the time to relax after taking care of two jobs for him, but the atmosphere wasn't making it very easy. A shower might have been good too actually, her back was killing her.

"You know that I'm here for you don't you?" She asked a can later sitting back down – next to him this time instead of opposite, because for some reason she needed to get through to him that she really did care about him and that she wanted him to feel that he could tell her anything.

Dante didn't look at her, staring at his finger-nails resting on the beaten red of the sofa.

"Don't you?" Lady repeated wondering what she had to do to get his attention. "Dante!"

The next few moments were a blur. Before she could register what was happening the world flipped over as she was turned on her back and pressed into the moth-eaten cushions of the couch.

"Dante?"

His eyes were large and Lady shivered when he raised a hand to thread it through her hair. "Lady…" He was leaning towards her and tugging her gently with the hand wound in her raven locks lips brushing beseechingly against her own. She needed to pull away but she couldn't there was something about his uncertain touch, his eyes were begging her for something though what she couldn't quite place. Love maybe? Reassurance? Her thoughts were pulled from her when his lips closed over hers in a bruising kiss.

In the end it was just as much her fault as it was his, he'd pushed it too far and she hadn't tried to stop him. Some treacherous part of her had enjoyed it though she'd told herself later that it was just to make him feel better. Turned out it was the biggest mistake of her life, that one decision had torn their friendship apart forever, part of her knew there was no way to fix it.

* * *

Lady reached the top of the stairs and turned into the corridor heading for the bathroom. The door wasn't locked, she pushed it open a little; eyes coming to rest on the demon slayer crouched over the toilet bowl. 

"Dante…"

He didn't reply, back heaving as his body worked to expel the contents of his stomach though now only bile rose into the back of his throat. To be honest he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd eaten something though now he was half wishing that he had. When the spasms had stopped he rested his forehead against one arm in an attempt to quell an oncoming head ache and trying desperately to stop the room from spinning.

"Dante?"

"Go away," he mumbled into his skin though it lacked conviction. He really didn't have the strength to argue anymore.

"I just wanted to know if you were alright," Lady said softly making her way around to sit on the edge of the bath. It was a stupid thing to say really, it was very obvious that he was not alright at all.

"Oh yeah fine; having the time of my life over here care to come and join me?" He asked sarcastically though his words slurred slightly they still held a familiar dry tone.

"That's not what I meant," Lady started, but stopped wondered what she actually had meant.

"Whatever," Dante replied dismissively swallowing hard to stop himself from throwing up again. "I'm fine on my own, you can go."

Lady studied his expression slightly shaken. Had he meant simply go downstairs or just leave here forever? She didn't know and she didn't want to if the answer was the latter. It was hard to tell what he had meant really, his hair was hanging in his eyes once again obscuring them from her gaze. She wondered idly if she could ever convince him to have it cut differently though she doubted it.

"Do you need anything? Water…?" She asked eyes fixed on him as she reached for a glass she had brought with her.

"I'm fi-"

Dante clutched the bowl of the toilet in a white knuckled grasp retching. Lady turned her head away more from respect than anything else. She wasn't one to be squeamish, but seeing him like this struck a raw nerve somewhere. Dante swiped the back of his hand across his mouth leaning heavily against the bowl of the toilet and holding his head in a free hand.

"Here." He was mildly relieved to see the glass of water Lady was holding in her out-stretched hand and he took it without a word needing to wash the foul taste from his mouth.

"Thanks," he offered handing the glass back to her when he had finished and once again resting his head in the crook of his arm waiting for his stomach to turn and reject the water he'd just consumed.

It didn't take long for the retching to start again and Lady rubbed his back comfortingly as his body dry heaved trying to bring something up though there was nothing there. He let her stay there too tired to protest and though he'd never admit it he was slightly glad of the company. He didn't need to be mothered, but once again telling her that would have been just too much effort.

"How did you let yourself get like this?" Lady asked quietly speaking to herself as she traced circles in a soothing motion on the demon slayer's back trying to remember how her mother had comforted her when she was sick. She was surprised that Dante hadn't pushed her away yet and was for some reason glad he hadn't.

Dante sighed head lulling as the world span in front of his eyes. "I-I think I need to lie down."

Lady nodded understanding that he had finally decided to accept her help as she pulled him to his feet. He had to lean heavily on her so that he didn't fall over again. He felt like he was constantly falling in one direction as he struggled to stay upright and Lady wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

It took a long time before they made it down the hall to his room and when they were inside Dante sat down heavily on the bed and tried to pull his shirt off over his head. In such a muddled state he got stuck and Lady let him struggle for a few seconds before helping him out.

"Stay still for god's sake," she commanded easing the material up over his head. When Dante was finally free of his shirt their faces were impossibly close and she wondered idly how she had managed to get herself into this situation once again, and why she suddenly couldn't move. There was something in his eyes that held her there, fixed waiting for something to break the silence.

Something did though it was not what she had expected. He tilted his head up and she felt his breath ghosting across her lips, she could have pulled away then, but she only realized that minutes later when it had ended. He raised a hand capturing her chin between gentle fingers and tilting it down to meet his lips as he pressed them to hers in a hesitant kiss. His eyes were closed, but her multi-pigmented ones were staring. It took a strange amount of strength to push him away, but as soon as she did the spell was broken. She began to stand, or at least thought about it, but his hand was in her hair then preventing her from moving as his head moved to the side to whisper in her ear.

"Stay with me."

She swallowed and tried to ignore the pleading tone as his tongue traced the shell of her ear. This was not normal for him and quite frankly she preferred the cocky arrogant Dante who had only ever tried to kiss her to piss her off. This desperation scared her. Was it because he was drunk, or because maybe he actually felt something for her…? _Stop being so stupid_! The thought was like a back-handed blow and it made her snap out of her daze.

"Lady," his breath in her ear blew against the saliva sending a shiver down her spine. "I want you."

She didn't respond to the gentle beseeching touch against her lips or his hands tentatively ghosting over her arms and back. Instead she gripped the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his head back, trying to pierce through the fog in his blue eyes.

"No Dante," she said softly and pushed a hand from where it now rested heavily on her shoulder. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

As she stood he caught her wrist, but the hold was weak and she could tell he knew he was fighting a loosing battle, "don't go."

"We'll talk in the morning," she replied curtly her gaze impassive though she couldn't look him in the eye; instead she looked right past him at the opposite wall. There was something in her that wanted to give in if only to make him feel better, but she'd fallen for that before and now she didn't have the excuse of alcohol. She was relieved when he gave up and slumped on the bed staying awake long enough to kick off his shoes. He was asleep within seconds and Lady couldn't help it as she reached out to brush the hair from his eyes and pull the covers up over him. The last thing he needed was to catch a cold though she didn't know if that was possible.

She flicked off the lights and turned back to him before she left sighing softly. In sleep he was beautiful – he was awake too, but there was something almost angelic about the peaceful delirium, something so innocent and vulnerable. His pale hair was thrown carelessly across the pillow as the moonlight streamed through the window shining over the brilliance of his skin and sliding down the hollows of his cheeks, kissing the slightly parted lips and the fullness of his mouth.

Lady rested her head against the door-jamb and watched him a wan smile creeping across her lips. "Please don't ask me to love you Dante, I just don't know how."

* * *

_A/N: There was origionally going to be four more pages of this chapter, then I thought that if I posted this half on its own it'd give me the chance to ask you the question I am having the most trouble with. I really need an opinion on whether Lady should stay or go and anyone who could offer me one on what should happen would be extremely helpful (and it'll also help me to update as well). _

_Uhm yeah, I never intended for a one-shot to turn into something so long. This story has pushed me way out of my comfort zone, but it's been interesting to write, I just hope I'm pulling it off._

_Constructive critisim is always appreciated!_

_-Luce_


	9. Tocophobia 4

-Lady Luce-

_A/N: Uhm this has been a long time coming. It's been three years. Over three years. Am I back in the fandom? I don't know I want to be so deseperatley. I miss my time daydreaming of Dante and Vergil but I'm three years older. People change. Anyway I'll let you get on and read. It's not finished yet, hopefully I will manage it._

* * *

Tocophobia: Fear of Pregnancy

Chapter 4

* * *

The warmth of sunlight on his face was the first thing he noticed. The second was the murderous throbbing ache pounding through his skull. He was utterly disoriented and more than a little afraid of moving. Slowly, Dante opened his eyes, blinking into the pale dawn light - which for some reason seemed far too bright – spilling through the window opposite. Shielding his eyes he grunted irritably and rolled over already feeling the after effects of drinking perhaps that little bit too much; okay maybe a lot too much. Lifting his head from the pillow he glanced to the bedside cabinet where a glass of water and two pain-killer tablets were set out for him.

A small smile crept over his lips as he thanked Lady for her consideration though it quickly slipped from him and was replaced by a dull dread in the pit of his stomach – either that or it was the alcohol making him feel sick. He honestly hadn't meant to have _that_ much and was more than regretting it now as he sat up slowly the ringing in his ears steadily rising to a deafening crescendo.

He quickly gulped down half the glass before slotting the pain-killers into his mouth and swallowing them with another swig of water trying to ignore the dry taste lodged in his throat. He set the glass back down slowly and rested his head in his hands massaging his temples to try and wake himself up a bit. He didn't know how he was going to face Lady after everything that had happened. The idea filled him with a cold dread as he slowly hauled himself out of the bed and found a shirt – he had apparently been too tired to remove his trousers though he couldn't actually remember how he'd found his way into bed in the first place.

Making his way to the door and trying to ignore the pounding head ache he wondered what on earth he was going to do. As much as he hated Lady for what she had done there was a part of him which didn't want her to leave. For once he had found a friend – even if she didn't act like it sometimes – and as much as he was loathe to admit it he hated being alone. He knew that Lady hadn't expected him to react this way, even if she'd tried to avoid telling him the truth. To be honest he wasn't entirely sure himself why he felt the way he did, but something had struck a chord and now he couldn't quite leave it alone. Was it the fact that he really did want a child or maybe that Lady still couldn't quite accept him for what he was? The few times the idea of a child had crossed his mind he'd dismissed it. He was far too young to be thinking about that and he knew somewhere deep down that it would be selfish to have one. After what had happened to his own family how could he ever consider it?

He sighed heavily resting against the door running everything through his mind for what felt like the thousandth time; his head ache did not improve the situation. But if this was all about Lady… he thought he'd settled all his problems with his demon blood a long time ago. He thought she'd accepted him too, but even if she hadn't why should he let it bother him so much?

Deciding that he would see how she was feeling and what she intended on doing he opened the door hesitantly and made his way down-stairs. He couldn't honestly expect her to stay after all this. He knew that this whole mess was his fault in the first place. Dante hadn't ever really considered the fact that he had a problem when it came to drinking, though lately the idea was playing on his mind. He knew that he'd always had rather self-destructive tendencies when everything seemed to be too much, but those habits had never really affected anyone other than himself before. It had only taken one night when he'd been brooding over memories which were better left forgotten. One night when he had needed something solid to hold onto; and he'd all but clung to her like a drowning man might have to a raft. He could only imagine what she must have felt, it had been an act of desperation not love and she must have pitied him enough not to immediately refuse him.

When he reached the office below Lady was sitting on one of the moth-eaten red sofas reading. He moved across the room and took a seat opposite her not liking how loud his foot-steps had sounded in the other-wise silent room.

She didn't look up, but slid a plate across to him. Dante took the sandwich deciding that it was easier to eat that than try to make conversation even though between the alcohol and the growing tension in the room his stomach was far from settled. He stared at the floor as he did so only occasionally taking a tentative glance to see if he could decipher her un-readable expression. That was when he noticed the suitcase down next to her on the floor and something in his chest twisted painfully.

"You're leaving then?" The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them and they hung heavily in the silence between them.

Lady looked up at him her bi-coloured eyes still as unreadable as ever. "I was going to yes, I thought it would be for the best" she paused. "But after yesterday… I'm just worried about you Dante."

He grimaced trying to remember exactly what had happened the day before. Everything seemed to be running into each other making it hard for him to piece it all together. He was pretty certain he'd made an ass out of himself though.

"I'm sorry," he said almost automatically. "I… don't know what's gotten into me. I won't do it again." He couldn't stand to meet her gaze now humiliation burning through him. Lady was one of the few people who'd seen him in such a mess, and it was a part of himself he'd rather not share. Silently, he vowed to never let himself do this again. A voice at the back of his mind reminded him that he'd made that promise before and broken it, but he ignored the traitorous whisper. This time he had obviously gone too far.

Lady put down her book finally and moved closer to him trying to reach his eyes with hers though he wouldn't let her. For some reason he wished that she would shout at him, anything but this silence.

"It's not something to be ashamed of, but I really don't want to ever see you like that again," she said softly unable to remove the memory of the day before from her mind. He had asked her to kill him… had that been some self-pitying strop or a spiteful remark to get her attention? Or worse, had he actually meant it? He'd been drunk, she couldn't honestly be expected to take any of what he'd said seriously, but there'd been a terrible ring to his voice when he spoke which had chilled her to the bone.

"I'm so sorry," she said finally, truthfully. She didn't regret loosing that child, but she regretted doing this to him. "Really Dante if I had known you would react this way…" She was lost for words unable to explain herself. She knew she couldn't make him understand her pure hatred of demons, one which fought to over-ride all sensible notions. Dante was one of the rare few of his kind who showed compassion – or any form of emotion for that matter – and similarly she knew that the world would never be ridded of evil with the death of every demon, but she couldn't bring herself to over-look that prejudice which had buried itself deep down inside her. She would forever abhor demons and though she accepted him that 'child' had been a step too far.

He shook his head slowly immediately regretting it when his head ache intensified. "It's not your fault; I was stupid to be like that. It doesn't matter what I am, I could never expect you to have a child when the parents don't love each other." He bit his lip and tried to quell the hurt he felt in saying those words; because saying it somehow made them real. She didn't love him, never would and deep down he'd always known that.

Lady smiled slightly though it didn't reach her eyes. She felt something for him, though what she was not certain. It wasn't love, far too complex to be called love, and half the time she hated him too; though she'd never wanted to have to leave him. Maybe this was how one felt to have a sibling, an attachment to them for whatever reason though no matter how much that person annoyed you the bond couldn't be broken. He'd never admit it, but Lady knew Dante needed someone to look after him sometimes and she'd fallen into that role easily. Maybe he'd mistaken her caring for him in this way as love? Maybe he really did love her even when she'd thought that they shared a mutual understanding of their relationship. Or maybe it had just been the alcohol talking that night.

She brushed away her thoughts quickly knowing that dwelling on the past now would only cause more heart-ache. There was nothing she could change about it all now and whether she liked the out-come or not she was going to have to live with it and its consequences.

It was times like this when he looked so incredibly human and yet somehow beyond it; as though he transcended humanity in the fact that he was a demon who could display their emotions so freely. The snow white hair only added to the ethereal effect, sometimes he seemed more angle than demon, always in some form of hierarchy above the human race. If there was a God – Lady had stopped believing in such trivial things long ago – then surely this juxtaposition of good and evil had been made for some purpose. Lady believed whole-heartedly that Dante was meant for something great and she had always thought she'd be by his side when that time came.

Trying to find the words to reply she was once again lost. She wanted him to know that despite everything she cared deeply for him and yet the feelings were not love. How could she convey how much he meant to her without sounding that way? How could she leave letting him think that she hated him?

"Dante…," she faltered again choosing her words oh so carefully. "I'm sorry that I have this prejudice, but it's so strongly ingrained now I don't think it will ever leave me. It's like a scar," the irony that he knew nothing about scars hit her then, "it may stop burning, but it will never quite fade away." She sighed. "I'm just not strong enough to let it go, you've given me some faith, but it's just not enough."

She left out that Dante was of course half-human, that some how by nature or nurture he had turned out more human than his twin. If Vergil's coldness wasn't proof that demons were heartless then she didn't know what was. Dante had embraced his human side and let those emotions in, but a demon with none of those emotions to start with. Something at the back of her mind wondered about Dante's parents, but she knew very little about either of them. She knew Eva's face from the picture on his desk, knew the story of Sparda from the myths and the occasional moment when Dante opened up about his life. Apart from that she had very little information to draw conclusions from though it begged the question of where a demon had found the emotions to love a human.

"And," she paused; he wasn't looking at her his eyes on the polished wood table in front of him – polished because she'd cleaned it earlier in a spell of boredom. "And even if it was," she reached across the table and took his hand in hers, whether it was to catch his attention or just some frailty on her part she did not know. He raised his head and watched her silently suddenly feeling the air in the room change. "I don't _love_ you Dante, but… but I want you to know I'm there for you even if you can be a pain in the ass sometimes."

Dante's brow creased, he'd never had a serious 'no' from her before; or at least not one when he too was being serious. "What brought all this on?" He asked wondering why she'd suddenly felt the need to establish boundaries. Once again she had _before_ and after this was all over and everything went back to normal – if it ever did – then he would still tease her, but before maybe there'd been a reason why. Now, now that he was beginning to examine his feelings closer maybe he really did love her, maybe that's why hearing her say it stung.

She blushed slightly and looked away dropping his hand, "you kissed me last night."

Lady knew he hadn't remembered the moment he walked down-stairs and hadn't expected him to anyway; the look of shock straining his perfect features only confirmed the fact.

"Oh," was all he could say looking down at his feet brow creased. "Sorry."

That was possibly the first time he had ever actually apologised for coming on to her. Once again she was worried by his strange behaviour; it was so disconcerting she didn't quite know how to react.

"It's alright," Lady waved it off nonchalantly, "just the alcohol."

"Yeah," Dante murmured picking at a loose thread on the battered couch. He wondered how much of an ass he'd made out of himself this time. He never liked to think that he'd forced Lady into something she didn't want that night, but the more he thought about it the more he doubted himself. Lady wouldn't have let him do anything she didn't want to, but if she had been in conflict over it like she seemed to be now, if she had pitied him enough would it have driven her to do something which she didn't actually want? Or maybe she had seen that affection she felt for him as love and decided to test it? He knew that she didn't want him like he wanted her and that bothered him more than he would have liked to admit. Dante wasn't one to be refused, nor was he one to feel anything beyond lust in these situations. He didn't know how to show her that he actually did care about her, that she wouldn't be tossed aside like the other girls he brought back to his bed. _She_ was different, she was special and right at that moment she was the only person on earth who knew everything about him. The one person who could see him from all sides and not the small cover he showed to the rest of the world. But how could he make her see that?

"I've made a fool of myself haven't I?" He asked tracing circles in the upholstery. In a way he had known that one day he would snap, this moment, this depression which had been eating at him for weeks possibly months seemed to be a culmination of everything triggered simply by one stupid mistake; and worst of all he'd brought her down with him.

"Kinda," she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "But we're all pretty stupid sometimes." She had been stupid getting drunk that night, stupid trying to abort the baby herself; emotions made you stupid, made you act without thought though she was certain that she had never wanted to hurt him.

"I guess," he raked his fingers through his hair tugging sharply when his fingers caught in knots.

"I have to leave now Dante," Lady said suddenly as though she would never be able to say the words if she didn't speak then.

His head shot back up looking at her with surprise. The way this conversation had been going he had thought everything would just go back to normal, well as abnormal as normal was.

"This it's made me think, I need to think," she was stumbling over the words, trying to make him see. _Please don't hate me_. "I was so set on killing my father all those years, and then I just leant on you because I had no where else to go. And now I need space, and I think you do too."

"Where are you going?" Dante asked numbly a sudden dread spreading through him, his eyes fixed on her suitcase.

She shrugged. "Don't know really, but there are things that need to be done, back where I used to live."

"I don't want you to go," he said softly and she gave him a wistful smile.

"I'm not leaving forever, I just need some time," she said in that cryptic feminine way that Dante had never truly understood. She was standing before he could find the words the suitcase clasped in one hand.

"Wait," he was standing too, had his hand around her wrist as she headed for the door. There was that desperation in his voice again mingled with panic. He didn't like to let on, but Lady knew that Dante hated to be alone. "How long?"

"I don't know," Lady answered softly not looking at him.

"And you'll come back right?" He let her go, smiled slightly at his own stupidity.

"I'll come back, I promise."

* * *

_A/N: If I can I'll have another chapter for you soon. I would love to start writing again. I would love to finish this._

_-Luce_


	10. Athazagoraphobia

**Phobias**

-Lady Luce-

A/N: (Old authors note from 2006/7 when this was first written). This fic is very AU and OOC. I blame it on two things, one; Cobalt Demoness who gave me the idea… and two, my own insatiable love of angst.

* * *

Athazagoraphobia: Fear of Forgetting

* * *

A devil may cry when he looses a loved one… Dante didn't really need _her_ to tell him that, and then again was it really the devil crying? Or was it his human blood which made him weak, which he had oh so foolishly embraced and was now feeling the full effects of. Vergil had told him countless times, warned him, and maybe for one of the few times in his life he agreed with his twin. At least then he wouldn't have to feel his heart being torn in two.

Lady had only seen the tip of the ice-burg. He'd run from the place where his brother fell, maybe it was because he was tired from the long battle or because it had been Yamato's blade which parted his flesh, but his hand still stung. He could feel the viscid liquid running down his finger-tips. The tower was in craggy ruins when he landed, still standing, but broken like ice cracking under-foot on a frozen lake before it finally gave way. He'd fallen through half of it, a blur of grey stone and alien lights, and hit the floor hard enough to kill a mortal man. It might have given him a concussion, in the chaos around him he couldn't really tell, nor did he care.

Instinct had guided him along the spiralling corridors, the burning need to survive which he was beginning to wonder why he had when everything around him only fell into ruin like the crumbling tower. He didn't realize he was crying until the uneven floor finally sent him sprawling across the hard stone in front of him. At first he assumed that it was blood, but it was far too thin and a swipe across his eyes only confirmed the fact. The small moment of realization was all he needed and despair ate into his core until he couldn't find the strength to stand again. He had to _leave_, get away before he was buried in this hell-hole forever, but instead he clung onto the precious stone in his palm and slammed his fist against the ground until his knuckles bled. Everything was gone; he hadn't realized it until now, until Vergil took that one step backwards into oblivion rather than return to the human world with him. Then again his brother was always an arrogant bastard; he'd rather die than admit defeat.

He sniffed and laughed, a strange sound when there were still tears streaming down his face. He swiped at his eyes, blood smeared across his face and he didn't care; maybe it'd get that girl off his back, she seemed to have an aversion to it. That was unless she too was lost among the rubble now.

It took a great effort to find his feet again. He was thrown this way and that by the falling tower and in the end he wasn't at all sure how he made his way out, but that wasn't the important thing.

The tears had dried up by the time he met her, he'd scrubbed at his face until all evidence of them – and most of the blood – was gone. He didn't think that he had any more left to give, but it turned out that he was wrong. Maybe it was looking at the empty landscape which had once been a city, a now silent waste land, a grave-yard of scrap-metal. The broken, hollowed out, skeletons of cars and homes and people crushed to dust amidst it all. He'd never thought of himself to be poetic in nature, but an overly romantic part of him saw his own heart in the barren charcoal sky.

Not that he could take it all in really, eyes wide and staring because they weren't seeing what was before him. His brother's voice reverberated around his empty mind, boomed in the deepest part of his subconscious and the cut on his hand stung again.

"Are you crying?"

Tears in front of her, like he cared, like he _should_ care, but he did as he lowered his gaze and turned his head muttering some lame excuse because damn it all if he was going to explain himself to her or if she thought she deserved an answer.

* * *

A couple of weeks and he still remembered that conversation; it was one of two he didn't think would leave him as long as he lived.

_"Even a devil may cry when he looses a loved one?"_

_ "Maybe."_

Maybe but he already knew, because this wasn't the first time he'd lost someone he cared about. His father first, just disappeared in the dead of night never to return again. His mother had been vague on the subject and he'd become needy, clingy out of fear of loosing her as well, but she'd _promised_ she'd never leave him. People shouldn't make promises they can't keep. Finally a brother he'd lost so many times he was still under the illusion that his twin would return. Until he remembered it all, reminded himself of the reality and let the cold steel bite into his palm again just to show himself that it wouldn't heal. Because every time the scar faded he cut it open.

The first time had been an accident; at least he'd kid himself it was, but the second and the third, purposefully, slowly, because he never wanted to forget, even if it meant the torment of reliving the same moment with perfect clarity. Everyone, everything had left him in a place he suddenly knew he didn't belong.

Everyone except her; and eventually he'd be thankful for that because someone actually did care enough to make sure his own morbid past-times didn't destroy him.

He'd never really contemplated the fact that he could be anything close to suicidal. His fighting style was reckless he knew, he slipped up once every now and again in favour of pulling off a new move, threw himself back into the fray when any mortal would have admitted defeat ten times over. That was just the thing though, he was inhuman and he took the advantages for granted, he'd never wondered about his ability to heal, to survive a fall which would have left a human a broken doll on asphalt; _a pretty stain_. He didn't know how it worked and he never really paid much attention to the fact that it did, but what if he didn't want it to heal? What if he actually wanted to see the scars to remind himself never to be so stupid again? Would they stay like a haunted memory or would he have to force the flesh apart just to feel something – even if it was only the warmth of blood running over his skin.

Was it indulgence, which in the end, forced him to the very brink of it all? Did he enjoy it or feel he deserved it? Emotions flew in maelstroms around his head until he couldn't pull them apart, like the intertwining juxtaposition of pleasure and pain. It was lost on him, but he did it anyway, because there was nothing beyond it because it was his lithium a brief cure to the invading cancer which haunted his nightmares.

Standing in the dim glow of a flickering bedroom lamp staring at his own gaunt reflection and the shimmer of a silver flame catching the blues of his irises. Contemplating things beyond his grasp until it all fell into the serenity of a simple flick across his palm, silver parted air with a sibilant hiss, met flesh and bone and tore through with the ease of skilled hands. Hands which were not created to inflict torture upon their own being and cried blood at the perversity of such implementation.

It was the first time he'd gone further than that hand, up his arm in a daze eyes fixed on the deadly silver. Part of himself was amazed he'd fallen so far, another had been expecting it. Ribbons of red sliced his forearm, drew blood across pale skin, burned for a moment and then healed so he had to go over it again, drive a little deeper into the flesh. Do it because it makes you feel, do it because it feels good, because you deserve it because you remember…

He found it hard to understand the real reason it had all bottled down to this. It had to come out somehow, and if you didn't let it out then the mask started to crack. Maybe he was paying for his silence this way, but he wouldn't change it. He preferred the silent atonement rather than trying to talk about it like she had tried to get him to do so many times.

Dante was sitting on the bed when she found him. Shirtless, he could get at the skin better that way. He sat perfectly still, catatonic, ribbons of red ran down his arms, his chest, like some macabre war paint. The bloodied blade was clutched in his hand; he was staring at himself in the mirror. She was silent at the door watching, waiting, because she was suddenly frozen.

He moved, raised his free hand, lifted the knife to his palm, slowly, hand slightly shaky. He must have been doing this for a while if he was actually shaking from the ill affects. Or maybe he had finally cracked and the tremors were simply those of a broken mind in conflict with itself. Dante pressed the knife to his palm drew the blade deep and across with a wince and a sigh.

Lady couldn't honestly comprehend what she was witnessing. This wasn't Dante, he wasn't like this, he wouldn't do this… She knew he was still hurt no matter how much he hid it, but she'd never thought that it would come to this. He couldn't truly be hurting himself, she'd shot him in the head after all and he'd lived, but it made her feel sick all the same. Bile built in the back of her throat as she took in the sheer amount of blood. It was everywhere, across the floor, the mirror, the bed, in his hair. She wanted to speak, to break the spell, the trance he seemed to be in, but she was caught in the tension, she couldn't believe she was seeing it.

The feeling shattered when he cried out. He raised the dagger and drove it into his abdomen, twisting it into the wound, choking on the pain. He slipped off the bed, dropped to his knees and Lady was moving before she knew what she was doing.

She was across from him, pushing him back by his shoulders. He hit the edge of the bed hard, sliding back confused and disorientated. His eyes widened as he realized there was someone else in the room, as he saw her, saw the anger and worry in her bi-coloured eyes. His hand still clutched the knife in his gut where blood burst like a star around the wound. She batted his hands away yanked the dagger free and he gasped fingers curling in order to stop himself from snatching her hands, body tense.

She threw the knife across the room, away from him, she didn't realize she was crying until she spoke and her voice cracked, hysterical even. "Is this what you want? You want to die? You just want to give it all up like that?"

The corner of his mouth twitched, he raised his head groggily to meet her eyes with his own inhuman ones. In the darkness they shone with a strange ethereal glow and a frightening finality. "I didn't know you cared."

It was a backhanded blow; she didn't know she cared either. Even crouched here on the floor in front of him, quite possibly saving his life she didn't know if she cared. There was something in her which hated seeing him like this, which felt anger and betrayal and nausea all at the same time. She didn't even know him too well, not enough to give a damn and here she was crying over something which didn't even concern her.

"I don't," she answered finally, harshly because it made her feel better. "And I'm glad I don't. I don't care what you do to yourself, but I care that there are people who need you."

Dante didn't seem to have anything to say to that. She wondered if he'd even considered how selfish his motives were. That he was quite possibly the only thing the human race has which was close to a saviour and he seemed so desperate to end it all. And to think if she hadn't of let curiosity get the better of her… she didn't know what she had been expecting to find up here, something she'd regret, but not this…

"Since when…" Dante's words were sparse as he breathed around the healing wound. "Did I give a shit about humanity?"

Her palm connected with his cheek, sent his head sliding to the side, but only because he hadn't expected the blow. Or maybe he had and just couldn't be bothered to prepare for it. Lady's face was flushed with anger and her eyes were burning as his head slowly turned back to her. "Well maybe you should think a little harder, there are people in the world who care about you."

"People like you, you mean?" Dante asked almost teasing. Or he would have been teasing if his voice wasn't so completely devoid of life and emotion.

Her eyes narrowed, her hands balled into fists. She didn't know if she cared or not, if she wanted to love him or hate him. Save him or let him carry on with his own self destruction.

"Maybe once," she replied callously, sniffing swiping at her eyes as she both nodded and shook her head at the same time. Maybe what she was saying to him was true, but she couldn't believe that she was admitting it now. "Before you lost yourself Dante, maybe…"

"You mean before you realized that I'm fucked up is that it?" Dante asked his tone biting – at least there was some emotion. "What, were you disappointed? Wanted your knight in shining armour and got me instead? Well I'm sorry I'm not a hero and I never pretended to be one."

Lady watched him with pursed lips, felt a tear trace the curve of her face, shook her head slightly. "You're pathetic," she spat pulling herself upright, marching across the room and collecting the knife. She returned her strides heavy on the floor, dropped the blade into his lap. "I thought you were stronger than this, but obviously I was wrong. Go ahead, do as you please, I don't care anymore."

She said it all with emotions in check, heart racing and still she couldn't help herself from stopping at the door speaking the words that could save him or destroy him.

"All this does," she started softly, she didn't know if she wanted him to hear her, "all you're doing now is admitting defeat. Your mother died to save you, your father left to save you. _We_ have lost so much and if you want to let all that go then that's fine take the coward's way out." As she spoke her voice rose with renewed vigour, she didn't care what happened to him, but she cared that he knew how wrong he was. "If you do this, you forget them you forget their sacrifices and _you_ are leaving _them_ not the other way around."

With that she left the room, left him there with the blade lying in his blood soaked lap. His eyes hadn't moved from it since it hit his pale flesh, astonishment clear on his features. Lady half wanted him to get up, say something, do anything. Instead he stayed stock still, taking in the blood, the knife, her words and she left the room with a heavy heart. She wasn't strong enough to save him if he had given up all hope of trying. If by the morning his heart had stopped beating she would have to live knowing that she had handed him his absolution.

* * *

_A/N: I wrote this SO long ago and I finished it off just now. It's my new ambition to finish off all my old stuff and post it up here because I feel like I have some unfinished business - and I miss this fandom and my fic writing days so terribly!_

_Thank you for the reviews they do still, after all this time, mean a lot to me!_

_-Luce_


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